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notmyneighbor · 3 months

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Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.

The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.

There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.

The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.

He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.

Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”

The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”

“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”

“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”

You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.

“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.

You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.

Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.

I say I'll move the mountains

And I'll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way

You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.

The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.

You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”

“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”

“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”

The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”

“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”

”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”

You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.

He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.

I say I'll care forever

And I mean forever

He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.

He kisses you.

You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.

His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.

“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.

The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.

There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.

You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.

“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.

The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.

The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.

Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.

The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.

Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.

It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”

You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.

“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.

“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.

“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.

You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.

“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #milkman x you #milkman x reader #doppelgänger

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ma1dita · 5 months

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partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy ☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

chance encounters ☼

The one where you both daydream about different lives. (You think you'd find him anywhere, by soul alone)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

angel with a broken wing ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four women Luke Castellan risked it for and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close (LATEST ADD) 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagines #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #🪽#trouble!verse #percy series #pjo x reader #jo's navi <3

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ajbullet · 5 months

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My thoughts on episode 5 of PJO: spoilers (less points but more info on those points because OMGS)

-Annabeth knowing Percy is still alive when even Grover HIS PROTECTER wasn’t sure

-THE HUG! THE HUG! It wasn’t some awkward oh we have to hug in this scene thing like Leah went for that hug. Gripping his shirt, closed eyes, relieved sigh and all

- The fates were so cool to see. It was funny seeing just three old ladies in the mix of all the other people

- Percy being in shock the entire first part of the quest and now finally asking the important questions and feeling a tad overwhelmed. Such a realistic, delayed reaction to everything to has happened

- Ares. Not what I imagined, but bought into him eventually. It was a cool take on his character

- Not their heads popping up from behind that cement thing like whack-a-moles. Especially Annabeth

- Persassy and Sassabeth were not having it with Ares’ shit. Sassabeth came out of the gate swinging

- Grover staying behind????

- Oh my gods my percabeth heart was filled to the brim. I was on the edge of my seat for their every line to each other. I was INVESTED

- Annabeth hasn’t seen a single movie?? But why does that fit her character so well??? Post credit scene of episode 8 her and Percy movie date please?????

- WHAT IS LOVE BABY DONT HURT ME

- Not Percy using his powers for the FIRST TIME to save Annabeth’s life

- My girl is slaying with her braids and her tears. Love it

- “You’re better that this than me. You know it.”

- SHE. FUCKING. SAID. THE. THING. Where were you when Annabeth said Seaweed Brain for the first time? I was on my couch, crying and screaming and audibly gasping. Almost choked on my own spit (yes that information was necessary)

- He sacrificed himself for her again

- “I’m not leaving the Underworld without your mom” “I was gonna say come free me after the quest” Forgot the exact quotes but omg they know each other so well already

- Annabeth has come so far already. She sees the twisted, manipulative ways of the gods and unseats of accepting it and continuing it and ignoring it, she actively tries to put an end to it. Her friend isn’t “that way.” She is wise enough to know that she once was that way but wants to change. She is the best character not because she is perfect, but because she sees, acknowledges, and accepts her flaws and actively seeks to better herself. Every award to Leah im serious

- “Thanks for the emotional abuse and cheeseburgers” me to my parents 🫣

There’s so much more I want to expand on and point out and talk about but im probably just gonna make separate mini posts. Guys this episode was EVERYTHING

#percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percabetn #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjo fandom #percabeth #pjoverse #pjotv #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo spoilers #annabeth percy jackson #percy series

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

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never too late

Characters: Jade, Kalim, Idia, Malleus

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 4.1k+

Notes: same as the last two, all the name ideas are in japanese. if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese

also wow classical music makes me so inspired i wrote so much

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Miharu (翠晴) with 翠 meaning "green, emerald, jade" and 晴 meaning "clear, fine, serene"

your daughter has straight teal hair and slightly angular eyes that are a complete replica of her father's

the name you chose for her has a strong connection to jade, also representing the peacefulness you found in Jade's presence

she's a quiet child who always has this calm smile on her face

she's loves being independent and hates asking other people for help

there are some times when you have to hold her and tell her "hey, you can rely more on your mother you know?"

she doesn't look like she wants physical affection, but when she's accomplished something, you'll notice her staring at you in anticipation

when you reach your hand over to pat her head for a job well done, she smiles so contentedly and just melts at your affection

loves playing around with plants and fungi, and thankfully she's quite good at managing them, so sometimes you can save money on groceries

loves swimming in the ocean, but much prefers clinging onto you in the water

will turn to her eel form if in bodies of water for too long, so you're careful about what times or places have fewer people

incredibly intelligent and good at quick thinking, always curious to learn more about fungi, magic, etc.

seemingly calm when you told her about her intelligent and sly father, but soon after learning about him, she'll ask questions about him a lot and start practising magic more

and when she finally accomplishes teleporting you two to him, you're in a pantry that smells of fresh tea leaves, and he's looking as elegant and charming as ever as he pours water into the teapot, his hair is sleeked back and the grace exudes just puts you in a trance

Jade's eyes widen as he beheld a sight that only seemed possible in his wildest dreams. There, standing before him, was the person he had loved so deeply and had thought lost forever.

"My love... is it really you?" Jade whispers, his voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and hope. His heart thuds in his chest, the sound reverberating through his entire being.

Tears glisten in the corners of his eyes as he closes the distance between you, his steps quickening with a sense of urgency. He envelops you in a tight embrace, his arms holding you firmly, afraid you might disappear once more. "Oh my pearl, how I longed to turn back time and not have let you go, to have kept you here with me," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling with a mixture of joy and sadness.

Jade is showing more emotion than you've ever seen and you're both crying and holding each other tightly

eventually, floyd barges in to tell Jade azul's complaint about how long he's taken to make the long-forgotten tea

when floyd sees you, he immediately tries to come over and squeeze you

but Jade is having his moment so he lifts you and keeps you away from floyd's grasp

pouting, instead floyd diverts his attention to Miharu, who's just curiously staring at him

eventually eventually azul shows up to see why everyone has disappeared and he's incredibly surprised to see you two

he complains that Jade will be busy for a while then, but you can see his eyes are teary and there's a soft smile on his face

for quite some time, Jade is incredibly alert when it comes to you, always paying attention to your needs, your feelings, and if you get up in the middle of the night for a bathroom break, he wakes up with you and waits outside the door until he can hold you again, and then he'll carry you back to bed

he didn't realise how important you had meant to him until you were gone, how lost and empty he felt, so best beware, he's never letting you go again

oh he's so cute with Miharu!!! building terrariums together and comparing notes and cooking mushroom meals together

father-daughter swimming sessions!!! sometimes floyd and azul join

definitely pranks azul as a trio, but azul can't get mad at her hahaha

you can tell Miharu is so enthusiastic about spending time with uncle floyd

Jade cries crocodile tears that his dearest daughter prefers his brother over him

and Miharu just tells him "well you belong to mommy, so i'll have uncle floyd"

the twin eels can't say they're unhappy with that arrangement, now can they

and don't forget mama and papa leech! they love spoiling Miharu with trinkets and treasures they find!

Jade's smiling genuinely more than ever, and you can't believe how lucky you are to have both him and Miharu in your arms

You direct your eyes towards Miharu, and his gaze follows yours, a tender smile tugging at the corners of Jade's lips. "And this... is she our child?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. He crouched down, his hands gently cupping her face, his fingertips tracing the familiar features.

"I'm so sorry," Jade confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I've been such a terrible father, I've missed out on so much of your life,"

Miharu's hand instinctively rises to meet his, her small palm finding solace against his cheek. A gentle reassurance emanates from her touch, and her voice, soft yet resolute, pierces through his self-doubt. "It's okay, daddy," she murmurs. "It's not your fault.

Without hesitation, he pulls her into a warm and encompassing embrace, enfolding her in his arms as if shielding her from the world. "Oh, my darling, you are such an angel," Jade whispers against her ear.

Hidaka (陽夏) with 陽 meaning "sun, sunlight, positive" and 夏 meaning "summer"

your son has spiky white hair, glowing tan skin, and ruby-like eyes that often sparkle with joy

you named your son after his father's sunny disposition, and the warmth in scarabia that you look back on fondly in your memories with him

hoo boy you got yourself a piece of bouncing sunshine

he's so bright and happy and warm and there's always a wide smile on his face that makes anyone who sees it feel re-energised

will often do things on impulse out of pure curiosity, but if you tell him off he's immediately apologising and hoping you're not mad at him

snuggles so much!! the first thing he does when he sees you is run up and jump into your arms

he's always willing to share what he has with others, and is friendly with everyone

though he has a big appetite, he's not picky about food and will happily eat anything you give him

he's not the smartest and is rather oblivious much like his father, but he makes up for it with how passionate and motivated he can be

but when he's determined, he can be surprisingly smart

when he heard about the kind and brave man his father was, he was visibly shaking in excitement, firing question after question

and before long, his determination to reunite his family brought the two of you into a dim room lit by a single nightside lantern

Kalim sat at the bed clutching a turban you had gifted him, his face has matured and lost most of its baby fat

Kalim's lips are parted, his breath catching in his throat as he sits there, rooted to the spot. "This... this can't be real," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, as he takes a tentative step forward, his heart pounding loudly.

His feet move as if guided by unseen forces. His eyes fixate on your face, searching for any sign that this is not a figment of his imagination. A fragile smile begins to form on his lips, the corners of his mouth quivering with a mix of disbelief and joy.

His steps quicken, echoing through the room, each one carrying him closer to the person he thought he had lost forever. And then, in a burst of exhilaration, he is by your side, his arms encircling you with a strength born from the depths of his soul.

"It's you," Kalim gasps, his voice filled with raw emotion. His grip tightens, his embrace both gentle and fervent as he twirls you around in the air, a whirlwind of emotions propelling him forward. Laughter escapes his lips, an expression of pure elation and gratitude. "Thank the heavens you're back! I never thought I'd see you again!"

oh he's crying waterfalls nonstop, you and Hidaka try to comfort him and wipe his tears but he only cries harder at your touch

at this point, jamil bursts into the room,

alert and thoroughly confused why Kalim is crying in the middle of the night

though when he sees you, his expression visibly softens and after asking a few questions to confirm your identity, he genuinely welcomes you back

his reaction to Hidaka is "oh no another one" but with the way he lifts him into the air and the teasing smile on his face you can tell he's not completely serious

after graduation, Kalim worked hard to inherit the Asim family business and has grown to become a successful businessman who cares for his workers and people

jamil willingly offers to take over Kalim's role for a while so that he can spend time catching up with you two, and it's clear from their exchange their relationship has improved a lot

Kalim, despite having seemingly matured, clings onto you like a child and you feel things haven't changed much at all

as the heir, he has been pressured to get married, but it didn't feel right for him when he still longed for you

so he's incredibly glad you can now permanently be the person who stays by his side, showing his affection by showering you with gifts and snuggling with you any chance he gets

he's great with Hidaka too! they're both super energetic and curious though, so occasionally jamil or you have to step in and be the reasonable person

so many impromptu trips on the magic carpet with the three of you just exploring places and going wherever you want!

he's also very very cautious about your security, all of a sudden he has a wife and a healthy heir, so undoubtedly there are some eyes turned to you

but Kalim has grown stronger and wiser to be able to protect what he cherishes, so he's not letting any harm come your way

Kalim gently pulls back, his eyes flickering between you and the little boy who bore an undeniable resemblance to him. "You've brought us such an incredible gift," he whispers, his voice tinged with awe. "A child, our child. I can't believe it..." His voice trails off, trailing into a breathless hush as he tries to comprehend everything.

Bending down gracefully, Kalim positions himself at eye level with Hidaka. "Hello there, little one," he murmurs, his words floating on a cloud of softness. "I'm Kalim, your...dad." The weight of the word lingers on his tongue.

Hidaka's face lights up like a radiant sun, a beacon of pure joy. Without hesitation, he lunges forward, embracing Kalim in a tight hug. Laughter bubbles up from within him, filling the air with a melodic symphony. "My daddy!" he exclaims, his voice a chorus of excitement. "I've always wanted to meet you!"

Kalim's tears fall freely once again as he wraps his arms around Hidaka, holding him close.

Honoka (火華) with 火 meaning "fire" and 華 meaning "flower, splendour, brilliance"

your daughter had bright yellow eyes that seemed to shine in the dark, and seemingly normal curly blue hair, until it would act in a similar way to Idia's hair when she became emotional

you named your daughter after her father's fiery hair, his inner brilliance and potential, and of course, the idea of a flower blooming in the underworld (Persephone vibes hehe)

she's the child who's quiet and introverted on the outside, but has so much to say when she's alone with you

most of the time she's generally soft-spoken, mumbling and acting shy with strangers

but oh wait? there's a pop-up arcade of her favourite show??? gremlin child activated

ridiculously good at games, even if she just learnt the rules, it's very like she'll end up being the winner

you used to spend a lot of time styling her hair, but there were too many instances where soon after finishing styling, her emotions became too unstable and her hair turned into flames

still braidable, just not explainable to strangers

she's kinda like a cat in the sense that she'll act like she doesn't care or not want your touch, but when you pat her head or brush her hair, she just sits still and beams at your affection

definitely clings onto you when there are too many strangers and she's scared

ridiculously smart and good at math and technology, and she had no issues learning magical theory from you

when you told her about the brilliant but shy man her father was, she was dying to meet him when he sounded so similar to her

and after running some tests and calculations, she connected her magic to Idia and the next moment you know, you were in the Styx science lab, with Idia, his hair tied up, his eyebags worse than ever, standing right in front of you

Idia's heart skips a beat as he catches sight of your figure emerging from the radiant light, a surreal moment that defies all expectations. "OMG, it actually worked..." he exclaims, dropping his tablet to the floor, forgotten in his rush towards you.

With each stride, the weight of years apart seems to evaporate, replaced by a resplendent glimmer of hope that grows brighter with every passing moment. His palms grow clammy, but undeterred, he continues his determined approach, craving the warmth of your presence.

He finds himself standing in front of you, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The room seems to shrink, narrowing down to just the three of them, the air heavy with anticipation.

Idia's voice quivers, his words delicate as they tremble in the air, like a fragile melody woven with threads of longing and regret. "I...I can't believe it's really you. I've missed you so damn much." His voice cracks with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare as he reached out to hold you.

Idia's crying and Ortho's right next time him congratulating his success, though there's a loving and emotional tone to his robotic voice

he's holding you so tightly and crying and he just melts into your arms and warmth

soon after graduation, Idia began working more and more at styx to inherit the family business

but a side project of his for the longest time was opening a portal where you could go back and forth between two worlds

and miraculously, his system connected with Honoka's magic and you were back!

idia's incredibly nervous and surprised he has a daughter, and he has a mild panic attack before he's a bit more calmed down with your and Ortho's help

but once things have settled down a bit, you'll start living comfortably with your family in styx

though idia may be busy at times, he always has ortho with you or some cameras near you so you won't suddenly disappear on him

you're basically irreversibly a part of the shroud family now, and in his mind, you really didn't get to choose

his anxiety about you leaving keeps him up at night, but when he wakes up from nightmares and you're the first thing he sees, he slowly calms down and curls his body into you to feel more of your warmth

gaming sessions with Honoka!! he introduces all sorts of his favourite games to her, though you make sure they're not too violent and inappropriate knowing him, and they bond over playing and introducing games to each other

family game nights with you four playing basically Mario party or co-op games!!

and though Idia's still working on breaking the family curse, even more motivated now because he doesn't want it affecting Honoka, he's so grateful fate has finally given him this happiness, to be able to live together as a family with his most cherished people

Trembling with a mix of excitement and trepidation, Idia knelt down to meet Honoka at eye level, his voice filled with a gentle warmth. "Hey there, kiddo. It's... it's really nice to finally meet you." His words carried a hint of awe, as if he couldn't quite believe that this precious little being was a part of him.

Honoka's eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and recognition, her small hand reaching out to touch his hair. She uttered her first words, a tender melody that danced in the air. "You have the same hair as me... Daddy?" she asked curiously.

Tears welled up in Idia's eyes as he comprehended her words, a tender smile graced his lips. His voice choked with love and gratitude. "Yeah kid, I'm your daddy." He pulls her into a hug, "Let's play lots of games together, yeah?"

Keitarou (蛍太郎) with 火 meaning "firefly" and 華 meaning "eldest son"

your son has black hair that fades at the tips to a blue reminiscent of the sky right before sunrise, and shimmering emerald eyes with a reptile-like slit in them

you named your son after the night you first met his father who manifested as fireflies, and a reference to the nickname you chose to call him

your son is very polite to strangers, but he struggles with getting along with his peers

he'd love to make friends, but his aura comes off as overwhelming to other people, so unfortunately he does feel a bit lonely

but he loves it when he's at home with you, when you shower all of your affection onto him and he feels so loved and cherished

he loves his mama so much he always wants to help you with chores and whatnot, but unfortunately he can be rather clumsy and oblivious which leads to more problems being made

but in those situations, you always show him the correct way of doing things, while also reassuring him it's okay he made mistakes, what's important is learning from them

super clingy and cuddly! sometimes he becomes territorial and his dragon tail appears and curls itself around your limbs

you have masterfully disguised his budding horns by wrapping his hair around them, explaining to others than he liked this Halloween costume so much he wanted it done everyday

being half fae, he's incredibly talented at magic and it really does come as second nature to him

when you told him about his charming yet fearsome father, he was really curious about this figure, but also a part of him wondered why his wonderful mama would choose someone like him?

well, mama seems to miss him a lot, and Keitarou loves nothing more than seeing you happy, and all of a sudden, you're standing in the throne room or the dark gothic castle, and right across the room was the King of Briar Valley, his expression stone cold and cautious until he met you eyes

Silver and Sebek, positioned in a defensive stance, braced themselves for whatever entity would emerge from the swirling portal. As the portal dissipated, revealing the figure within, Malleus gasped, his breath catching in his throat. A surge of emotions overwhelmed him, an electric current coursing through his veins.

His steps quickened, propelled by an overwhelming desire to bridge the chasm of time and distance that had separated you for far too long. The distance between you closed swiftly, his graceful stride carrying him closer to the embodiment of his deepest longing. The words that slipped from his lips were laden with a tenderness and longing that only you could evoke.

"My dearest Child of Man, is it truly you?" Malleus murmured, his voice a fragile whisper, as if afraid to shatter the fragile reality that had materialized before him. His outstretched hands trembled, yearning to cradle you once more, to feel the warmth of your presence.

A mixture of awe and reverence coated his words as he continued, his voice barely audible but drenched in profound emotion. "You came back. It's been so long, far too long..." His voice trailed off, swallowed by the weight of the years that had separated you.

he's so shaken the rain has cleared up to bring about a beautiful rainbow that hovered over the castle

silver and sebek go to get lilia, and it's a heartfelt family reunion

they've all seen how Malleus has returned back to his hollow shell of existence after you left, and they're so glad his eyes are glimmering with emotions once again

though some are more direct about it, and others felt the need to rant about how cruel it was to leave them (we love you sebek)

though he's been urged by his advisors to quickly marry and start producing an heir, he's adamantly refused because he firmly believed nobody would ever make him feel the same way you did

there are some advisors who are secretly unhappy with the fact that the queen is human and the new heir is half-human, but nobody would dare say a word when they see the Malleus Draconia act like an oversized puppy dog with his head in your lap

plus, Keitarou magical prowess and intelligence easily put them in their place

Malleus, with your return, has grown more openly dramatic and affectionate

for example, if you mention you like a certain flower, the next day the entire garden is replanted to that exact flower

do calm him down a bit so he won't be too extra with his love language

Keitarou and Malleus sort of have this rivalry between the two of them to get the most of your affections

but they do eventually reach a truce when they both agree you're the most important thing in the world

but you know, general lighthearted sabotage on both ends, Keitarou wants to sleep with his mama, so papa can sleep alone yeah?

no it ends up with the entire family sleeping together and you're sandwiched in the middle

well, at least it's a happy family of two possessive dragons and possibly a baby princess coming on the way?

Keitarou hid behind your legs, his small frame peeking out to catch glimpses of the man standing before you.

"Hm? Is he... our child?" His voice carried a soft tremor, as if he dared not let himself believe in the possibility. But your nod, filled with affirmation and a love that transcended time, set loose a cascade of emotions within him. A serene smile graced his features, radiating warmth and a profound sense of peace.

Malleus turned towards Keitarou, his eyes tender and gentle, a wellspring of paternal affection flowing freely. "Hello, young one," he began, his words carrying a weight of significance that only a father's voice could hold. "I am your father, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

Keitarou's wide eyes glistened with a mix of wonder and cautious hope as he listened to Malleus's gentle words. "Hello," he murmured, his voice filled with a blend of innocence and an innate longing for connection. "I... I'm Keitarou," he continued, his voice wavering slightly but growing stronger with each syllable. "It's... it's nice to meet you, Father."

Malleus's smile widened, mirroring the joy and relief that flooded his own heart. With open arms, he enveloped Keitarou in a warm embrace.

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Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 4✧Masterlist

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #twisted wonderland kalim #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland idia #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus

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seiwas · 10 months

Text

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it.

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can.

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to.

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly.

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away.

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking.

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how.

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit.

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5.

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie.

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it.

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately.

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him.

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze.

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.”

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon).

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term).

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back?

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky.

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him.

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his.

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge.

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today.

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.”

You hum in response. He does make a point.

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?”

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace.

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder.

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki.

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same.

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning.

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of.

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you.

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue.

“Are you okay?”

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed.

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes.

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely.

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little.

“Well, maybe I can suggest—”

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.”

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading.

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?”

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you.

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care.

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint.

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god?

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way.

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide.

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.”

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own.

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it.

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning.

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way.

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room.

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you.

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.”

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you.

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all.

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books.

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake.

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why.

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs.

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk.

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in.

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table.

You break the silence.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly.

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way.

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame?

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets.

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively.

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken.

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache.

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway.

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.”

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not.

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast.

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now.

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart.

“I can’t.” he speaks softly.

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky.

You think you want to cry.

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair.

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees.

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway.

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence.

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor.

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail.

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him.

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile.

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love.

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are.

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips.

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others.

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.”

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have.

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time.

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more.

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink.

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely.

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace.

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day).

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee.

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry.

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?”

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk.

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already.

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar.

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous.

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you.

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be.

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise.

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then.

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open.

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat.

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think.

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug.

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing.

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his.

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever.

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you.

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response.

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly.

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand.

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick.

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket).

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles.

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite.

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful.

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows.

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?”

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it.

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right?

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee.

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.”

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long.

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching.

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips.

So you wait.

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there.

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can.

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more).

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch.

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is.

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed?

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how.

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle.

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru.

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different.

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move.

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone.

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork).

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends.

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head.

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours.

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still.

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it.

But it doesn’t come.

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office.

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little.

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this.

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again.

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday.

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself.

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does?

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away.

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again.

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always.

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours.

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose.

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true.

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips.

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same.

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door.

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really.

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #oh my god i cant believe i finished this !!!!!!!#its a big one ... jhbfhsdbfja woops #shoutout to niku for being so supportive !!!#col

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cloudcountry · 6 months

Text

SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

#auburn talks ikerev <3 #auburn's fics <3 #blanc lapin #ikerev blanc #ikerev blanc x reader #blanc lapin x reader #ikerev #ikemen revolution #cybird

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haruchuiyo · 29 days

Text

struck with love

the duke and you. will the relationship blossom into something more than just a friendship?

content: SUGGESTIVE! + regency au + duke!blade + duke’s daughter!reader (you’re not blades daughter!) + fem!reader + blade gets called yingxing + pining + second chance + heartbreak + groveling + make out + loads of kisses + fluff + jing yuan and the princess cameo (same characters from my jing yuan fic) + happy ending!!

word count: 11k (I got to into it but it’s a fast fast read I promise!)

hope you enjoy ><

—

The Duke of Stellaron.

This is the first time you’ve seen the man in the flesh aside from hearing about him. He was walking up from behind Prince Jing Yuan. He bows to the princess beside you before addressing Jing Yuan before he stands beside him, you give him a curt bow with a gentle smile.

“Your Grace.” You address him as he bows curtly back at you. Then you see how he looks between you and the princess. The princess immediately figured what was going on.

“Your Grace, this is my most beloved friend. The daughter of the Duke of Navalia.”

“My lady.” You can’t help the lingering look you give him. He’s a handsome man, quite stoic and almost devoid of any emotions except from the polite look on his face. As he chats to Jing Yuan, you see how he glances back at you and your eyes slightly widens when yours meet his crimson eyes before hastily looking away.

“So, Your Highness. How does it feel to have been crowned as a prince?” You throw the question at Jing Yuan who started to look bashful. You grin as you hear the princess, who’s also his wife, giggle beside you. As you grinned, you failed to notice a pair of crimson eyes laying their sight upon how your big smile lightens up your face, thinking how beautiful you are.

“It certainly feels weird.” Jing Yuan says and you hear the princess dramatically gasp from beside you. “That’s not what you said yesterday, my love. I thought you were ecstatic.” She lightly pouts and Jing Yuan immediately grasps onto her hand.

“Of course I’m ecstatic my heart, but I can’t deny it feels weird to be addressed as ‘Your Highness’ than the title of my military rank.” His voice was gentle and the way he kissed his wife’s knuckles softly, has you envy their relationship. Their love was truly so fated. As you glance away from their interaction, you look at the Duke who was quiet the entire time.

“How’s you stay here in Xianzhou, Your Grace?” You ask, feeling shy when you see him look at you. He gives a light nod.

“Quite different from the almost quiet live in Stellaron.” He responds, his reply making you giggle. You nod your head. “Xianzhou is quite-“ you pause as you think of a word.

“Lively.” You hear the Duke's deep voice. You look at him and nod in agreement. “Quite indeed.” You smile at him, finding him quite lively as well.

“Have you been to Stellaron, my lady?” You don’t know why you felt surprised he asked you a question about yourself, but you did. But you found yourself quite liking it.

“I have actually. Though I suppose you weren’t there.” You ponder on if you actually met him the time you visited Stellaron. “I’m sure I’d remember you if I was there.” He lightly chuckles.

“I feel flattered, Your Grace.” You grin at him and you missed how his eyes widened when you flashed him your big smile. Looking away from him, you see how the princess and prince started walking away, arms locked in together, chatting amongst themselves.

“It seems our pair of monarchs have left us.” You playfully sigh before holding onto a little bit of your dress to rise the gown up a bit, missing the way the duke’s eyes lowered themselves to glance at your legs.

“Let’s hurry shall we?” You ask the Duke as he looks at you for a moment before nodding his head.

—

After that day of your first meeting with the Duke of Stellaron, you found yourself enjoying his stoic presence. But he isn’t as stoic as you thought he’d be, he’s very lively in his own way. Randomly saying some sassy remarks which has you gasping and lightly swatting his arm, his arm he so offered for you to hold onto. Or if you didn’t know well enough, you’d miss how he is actually pulling jokes when he sounds so serious.

“Yingxing!” You waved at him as you lightly skipped away from the princess to him.

“My Lady.” He greets you with a smile you’d grown to love. “Ugh, not again! I told you to call me by name.” You pout. You hear him lightly chuckle as you see him offer his arm to you. And then you hear him call you by your name, which makes a smile appear on your face, joy so evident.

Gratefully, you place your hand on his arm and you two start walking away from Jing Yuan and the princess, unbeknownst to you two, missing the way they look at you two with a knowing look on their face.

“So tell me, why are you called Blade?” You ask. “I sometimes hear Jing Yuan calling you that, but never had the opportunity to ask why.” You explain to him and Blade sighs. You look at him confused.

“It’s a nickname I received during the military training, which I was so unfortunate to have at the same time as Jing Yuan.” He says and you giggle.

“Did you perhaps do something cool?” You grin at him and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“According to Jing Yuan and the others, me hitting bullseye ten times in a row with blades, was very cool.” He tells you and you gasp.

“Bullseye ten times in a row? Yingxing, that’s extremely amazing!” You squeeze his arms and he chuckles. “Well, if you say so. Then perhaps it is.”

“I’m sure you did many more amazing stuff with blades.” You tell him and he nods. “I did actually. I was quite proficient in using blades.” He remarks. “And swords as well.” He adds on and you giggle.

“I’m smelling some foul stench of flaunting here.” You tease him and he grins at you, which makes your heart flutter. He looks so much more beautiful like this than the stoic demeanour he always puts on. You look one last time at his pretty smile before looking away, pointing at some nearby big bird flying by, trying to ignore this butterfly mess feeling in your body.

—

The Princess was hosting a ball to welcome the new season. And here you were standing amongst the punch drinks, deciding wether you should pick the raspberry flavour or the watermelon one. Though the way the watermelon punch drinks was decorated is quite cute with the small bites of the fruit sitting atop the rim of the glass.

“I see you’re having a difficult time.” You hear a familiar voice which instantly makes your heartbeat go faster and the fluttery mess in your body go off again. You turn to look at him and as soon as you do, a lovely smile appears on Blade’s face as he softly says ‘hi’ and calls you by your name in that soft deep voice of his.

“Hi, Yingxing.” You say shyly, thinking of the way he greeted you.

“I’d recommend the watermelon one, it’s quite delicious.” At his words, you turn surprised then a quiet laugh bursts out from you. “Then I shall pick that one.” You tell him as you grab onto the watermelon punch glass.

“When you’re done drinking, may I have a dance with you?” You hear him ask and you felt streams of joy spread inside your body. This is gonna be your first dance with the man you’ve had the opportunity to get to know better over the past few weeks.

“You may.” You gracefully accept his invitation.

As you chat amongst yourselves, sipping on the last bit of your punch, you place the empty glass on a passing waiter's metal board. And as you do that, you hear the musicians change the music. You look at Blade, who then looks at you with his hand reached out.

He takes you to the dance floor. As you stand in front of him, you place your left hand on his shoulder and the other one holding his left hand. Then you feel his right hand on your back and you can’t help the slight shiver that comes up in your body. It doesn’t help the fact your gown is kind of backless and you feel his bare hand on the place between your neck and upper back.

You glance up at him then he leads you, moving to the steps of how waltz go. Left foot back, right foot to the side and step forward. The dance suddenly making you nervous by the close proximity, you almost squeeze your hold on his shoulder. You breathe deeply as you look at his chest instead of him, if you did that, he’d definitely be able to hear your quick heartbeats.

“Look at me.” You hear him softly whisper and you do. You do as he say and when you look at him, you wish you didn’t.

How dare he be so beautiful? How dare he look at you with those beautiful crimson eyes? The audacity he has to be so beautiful in anything he does, even in the way he is leading the dance.

“You okay?” He hear him ask and you smile. “Yes, I was just thinking about how we should do two more dances.” You say, lying through your teeth, feeling like you’d rather do this than tell him of your actual thoughts.

“Two more dances?” He asks, almost bewildered. “Yes, or perhaps, three more if you’d like it to be.” You grin at him as he sighs.

“My lady.” He says with almost a stern voice as he tilts his head.

“Your Grace.” You mimicked the way he said but a little more mischievously while also tilting your own head.

“Three it is.” He sighs out while smiling and you grin at him. “No chance to back out, Your Grace, it was you who invited me for a dance after all.” You lightly stick out your tongue to tease him.

He lets out a quiet laugh to hide the way he was looking at your mouth, how moist your lower lip seems to be after you stuck your tongue out at him. To hide the fact that if he leans in a bit closer, he could touch and taste you with his own mouth. He lightly shakes his head and leads you to the final part of the dance before the music changes.

The next two dances was more upbeat and lively, spinning and dancing with the other people in the ballroom before you went back to your original dance partner. As you do, the music changes, to a more intimate and slower tune and you suddenly felt nervous, feeling how your laugh from the previous dances dissipate when you see how Blade is wrapping his arms around your waist. And you know he didn’t fully place his hands on your body, but instead held his own hands and placed his intertwined hands on you.

His arms around your body does something to you. Streams of nervousness and also joy shoots up your body. You feel your hands tremble and almost sweat as you place them on his neck. You avoid looking at him now. Cause this time if you did, he would definitely hear how fast your heartbeat is.

You look at anywhere but his face, this time at his chest again, specifically the white shirt below his black suit jacket. You swear you could see his chest heave up and down quite harshly, his shirt straining against his body. Subconsciously, you slightly leaned your head forward and lightly breathed in his scent. He smells so good, like a man.

And then you still in your actions. Because you felt one of his hands press down on your lower back and lightly push you into him. Softly gasping, you look up at him to find him looking at you. You know that he saw what you’ve done by the way his eyes flickers all over your face before stopping to stare at your lips and you do the same. Your lips slightly part and you see how Blade subtly licks his mouth, his eyes turning almost hazy. You feel yourself almost squeeze his neck and him digging lightly onto your back with his hands.

When the music stops, it’s like you two got out of a trance and looked at each other with surprise evident on your faces. You hastily unclasp your hold on his neck, swearing you could see your handprint on his neck, but brushing it off as something your mind made up to scare you off. You back away from Blade, in turn making him lose his hold on your body, which you so dearly miss though you can sense a phantom lingering feel of his touch on your body.

“Your Grace.” You give a curt bow before walking away, not bothering to let him address you as well.

You walked hastily away, breathing heavily, you ignored your best friend, the princess, who called out for you in worry. You shake your head at her, brushing it off as some kind of problem with the heat and walked past her too before reaching a balcony far away from where the ball was hosted.

Reaching the thick marble fence of the balcony, you grip onto it as you breathe out heavily. You close your eyes as you soak in the summers night cold air then you think about how good Blade smelt, his hands on your body and the way he looked at you with such desire in his eyes. A strange feeling builds up in your abdomen and you try to fan yourself with your hand when you hear steps from behind you. Turning around, there’s the man who’s the object of your thoughts.

“Oh.” Is what you could say. You see Blade close the balcony doors before facing you.

“Care to tell me what that was about?” He asks, he didn’t sound gentle but almost frustrated.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” You blabber off more apologies then your eyes land on his neck and you do see a faint hint of your hand print there. And you immediately take a step towards him, reaching a hand out to touch his neck.

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have squeezed your neck, I left a mark. I’m so sorry.” Feeling panic build up inside you as you touch his neck, feeling his skin on your fingers tips, a larger hand wraps around your wrist and you feel a hand on your lower back, pulling you in to him again.

“Your Grace.” You softly mumble.

“Yingxing.” He says.

“Yingxing.” You repeat softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You tell him again.

“You’re not at fault at here, I did something too.” His voice is soft as you feel him rub on your lower back. His hold on your wrist loosens as he goes to hold onto your face. You lean your face into his touch, nuzzling into his palm, ignoring the way his breath hitches.

“I don’t know what to make of what transpired between us.” You hear him say and you dryly chuckle. “Me neither, but in my case, it makes sense to me.”

“What do you mean by that?” His brow are raised and he clearly looks confused. You smile sadly at him. You place a hand over his palm that’s holding your face.

“I have feelings for you.” You confess softly. Blades eyes slightly widens in surprise, he didn’t expect to hear that at all.

“Feelings?” He repeats, speechless.

“I’m in love with you, Yingxing.” You blurt out, seeing how he’s still shocked and quiet at your confession. “I don’t know when it started, but it did someday. I catch myself thinking about you a lot, I want a lot more from you. I want to be with-“

“I’m gonna have to refuse.”

“—you.” you finish your sentence then you comprehended his words. “Refuse?” Your heart beats fast this time, but for other reasons. Blade’s hold on your face and back lowers themselves to beside his own body and he looks at you with that stoic look you saw the first time you met him.

“Why? what—“

“I’m not interested in you like that.” He sounds so mean. So mean. He can’t mean that. This is not the Yingxing you got to know. Tears well up in your eyes and you miss the way his hands form into tight fists by his side. Vision blurry, you wipe your eyes but the tears are streaming down still.

“A ‘no’ would’ve sufficed but you had to add the part with me in it.” You chuckle, not being able to believe his words. He sounds rude. You wipe off the remaining tears with a nod to your face and exhale deeply.

“I understand, Your Grace. I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. Have a lovely night.” You give him one last polite bow before leaving him alone in the balcony.

Blade stood there alone, staring off at the view in front of him. He’d usually say something about it. With you. But now it looks bleak and gloomy. His hands still in a fist, he feels agonised. But he was honest. Yes, he was honest about his feelings. He does not feel the same way as you. No. He totally does not want something more from you. No no. He does not see a future with you. He definitely doesn’t miss your touch on him. Yes. He was honest.

Very honest.

—

He was lounging on the porch with Jing Yuan. Trying to bask in the heat of the summer, he cannot do that. He hears your laugh, the way your eyes shape into cute moon crescents and the way your nose scrunches up as you throw your head back laughing. His body itches to move towards you but he can’t. He remembers the time he approached you, he was met with a demeanour of yours he did not like. You were so polite, extremely so. Like you two never had conversed before this or that the night in the balcony didn’t happen.

Blade taps his fingers in a fast pace against the armrest of the chair he’s sitting on. He hears Jing Yuan groan from beside him.

“Can you stop that already?” He asks exasperated. “No.” Blade shortly says as his eyes follow your every move, how you run after your best friend in some silly game.

“You know, you could join them if you want to.” He hears Jing Yuan say and he stops his tapping to look at him. “What?” He asks.

“You can join them if you want to, Yingxing.” Jing Yuan repeats what he said. But all he could think of is the way you used to call him ‘Yingxing’ as well but now it’s ‘Your Grace’.

He hates himself for that.

“There’s no need.” He looks away from his friend to look at you once more and begins his tapping once again. He hears Jing Yuan sigh.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing by how my wife’s best friend, whose company you clearly enjoy, has been avoiding you like the plague.” Jing Yuan points out. Blade sighs. He can’t hide anything from his friend and his sharp eyes. He wasn’t a general for nothing.

“I rejected her.”

“What?” Jing Yuan almost jumped out of his seat. He looks bewildered at his friend. “You rejected her? I thought—“

“Enough. It is done and I cannot do anything about it now.” Blade cuts his friend off. Clearly knowing what he’s gonna say.

“You’re lying to yourself, Yingxing.” Jing Yuan starts. “There’s clearly ways to fix this.” He adds on.

“What ways? All I’m gonna do is hurt her again and again, and I don’t want that. Hurting her pains me.” Blade retorts with gritting teeth. “I felt agonised the day I refused her feelings. Seeing her cry, oh believe me, those blades my nickname is derived from, I wanted to hit a bullseye on myself more than ten times. It’s awful seeing her hurt. So no, I can’t do anything about this.” Now he’s gripping onto the armrest, feeling envious of the princess who gets to laugh freely with you. His heart aches.

“Yingxing, you’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Jing Yuan asks softly.

“It’s too late.” His voice wavered.

He sees Jing Yuan step up from his chair from his peripheral vision. Then feels his friend pat his shoulder.

“It’s never too late, my friend.”

—

Ever since the day you played a game of tag with your best friend the princess and saw her husband approach you two, leaving Blade alone. It’s like something switched in Blade’s brain.

He’s been there every time you needed help. Or anything of that sort. Small simplistic stuff like dropping your handkerchief, he’s there to pick it up and give you his instead of making you use your dirty handkerchief. But you refused that.

Or when you were going down the stairs and held up your dress but almost tripped, he was there to catch you. Though if you tripped, you’d land on grass not stone. You’d be fine.

So what’s wrong with him?

Just now, he’s ordering a dessert from the servant, your favorite, during an outing with the princess and the prince. You look at your best friend confused with your hands in a fist. She knows what happened, so all she does is shaking her head lightly while patting your fist softly. “It’s okay, just a dessert.” She had whispered.

It’s infuriating. It’s like he’s completely ignoring the wordless request of space you asked of him.

After a luncheon one day, you took a walk in the park with the princess.

“It’s hard to ignore him.” You sigh. The princess giggles. You look at her irritated. “I didn’t know my suffering was so fun to you, Your Highness.” You poke at her side making her giggle again.

“Oh it’s not like that, stop it!” She giggles still. “But why not give him a chance? He’s clearly trying to mend the pain he caused.” The princess softly said. You shake your head.

“There’s no point. He clearly said he is not interested in me. Me.” You point out. His words still hurt to this day. He had to add in the ‘you’.

“What if he has a reason. Did you ask him?” At her words, you quiet down. You shake your head lightly. “No I didn’t, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to hurt me like that.” You pout. You feel your best friend gently pat your cheek.

“He’s invited us over to Stellaron for a weekend, so maybe have a talk with him then, alright?” You sigh but nod anyway. Your best friend does have a point. Ignoring the man and acting like he’s nothing but just a Duke to you, won’t do any good. It’s just leaving the mess to slowly get bigger and bigger.

Switching to a different topic than just crying over a man who rejected you, you speak of something with the princess when you suddenly feel how the wind got so strong it blew your hat off your head, making it fly away. Your best friend gasps and you giggle as you run to retrieve it.

Then it dropped on the grassy ground near someone’s shoes and as you look up to see who it is, it’s Blade. The man who rejected you. Feeling your giggles and smile vanish, you see him pick up your hat for you.

“My lady.” He lightly bows his head. You nod yours. “Your Grace.” You gently say. You see him look at your hat before looking at you, then he hands it over. Taking it from him, you don’t miss the way your fingers brushed against each other and you held your breath before letting it out slightly when you put the hat on your head.

“Thank you. Have a nice day, Your Grace.” You give him a curt smile, feeling your heart ache as you walked away. Unbeknownst to you, the man who rejected your love for him, stared at your form longingly with an ache in his own heart. Little did you know, he saw your smile drop and your giggle vanish as soon as you saw him. He felt like his soul got crushed in pieces by a hammer and that same hammer crushed the pieces into more pieces.

To think he used to make you smile despite his stoic demeanour, the way a beautiful smile lightened up your lovely face and a beautiful laugh escape your pretty mouth. Just for it to turn polite like he was any other man of polite society.

He wasn’t honest after all.

—

Arriving at the Stellaron mansion after a day ride in the carriage, you’re exhausted. You step out from the carriage with the help of your footman. You walk towards the carriage your best friend and her husband is sitting in. As soon as you arrive, they walk out. You hastily grab onto your best friends arm as she startled in surprise.

“Sorry but I can’t walk up alone.” You whisper to her and she giggles. You hear Jing Yuan lightly groan.

“And now I can’t have my wife to myself.” He sighs in disappointment. You see your best friend swat Jing Yuan shoulder before he grabs her hand to gently place a kiss atop her gloved knuckles.

Then you look up and see Blade at the top of the stairs at the entry to his mansion. He looks good. So good, the suns beaming down on his hair beautifully, showcasing his blue hair. He walks down the stairs to greet us all.

“Your highnesses, welcome to the Stellaron mansion.” Blade bows curtly to Jing Yuan and the princess. They thank equally as grateful then Blade’s eyes lands on you. Heartbeat quickens in pace as usual in any proximity with that man, especially when he looks at you.

“My lady, I hope you enjoy your stay here once more.” He walks towards you, taking your gloved hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss atop your knuckles. Your breath hitches and you give an awkward smile, unbeknownst to how Blade’s hand stretched after he let go.

“I shall, Your Grace. Thank you for extending the invitation to me.” You give a curt nod and he smiles at you.

“Of course.” His eye lingered on you for far too long, you’d think he wanted to say something more but he looked away.

Then he leads you all up the stairs and you walk behind the men with your best friend, arm looped in with hers.

“Oh that man is enamoured with you.” You hear your best friend whisper. You frown at her. “No he isn’t, stop putting ideas in my head.” You shake your head and she giggles. “Oh so you have thought the same.” She does a ‘ohhh’ sound as she teases you and you just sigh at her.

When you arrive in the guest bedroom, you flop down on the bed and stare up at the wall. The maids in the bedroom arrange your suitcases and a bath. You tap your fingers on the mattress pondering on how to approach Blade and talk about, no, more like discuss with him. In a civil proper manner.

Then you sigh, not coming up with any ideas. Then you hear a knock on the door and you tell the maids you take care of it. When you open the door, you lightly get surprised.

“Your Grace.” You say breathily, not expecting him to be there. It’s as if he knew you were thinking about him.

“Just coming to ask if the bedrooms alright and to your liking.” Blade asks, his face looking expectant and you almost wanted to burst out into laughter but decided to spare your laugh for him.

“Oh yes, it is fine. Very fine indeed!” You tell him as politely as you could but probably failed miserably. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he nods his head. “Then I’m glad.” Is he all he says before he turns quiet and his gaze linger on you once more. It’s quite worrying, the only time he did this was the day you met him for the first time. But now he’s staring at you. Getting a little conscious, you let out an awkward chuckle.

“Was there anything else, Your Grace?” You ask him and you see how his face winces. You don’t know what for but you can’t be bothered to ask even if you want to.

“Oh? Oh. No, nothing.” Is not what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask if you wanted to take a promenade with him, show you the beautiful lake at the back garden of the mansion and the pretty swans swimming around or the lotus flowers blooming. His hands that’s placed behind his back is tightened into frustrated fists and when he sees you give him an awkward smile, he just can’t stand it. So he sighs.

He sighed. And you don’t know what to make of it. Growing almost annoyed at his sudden weird behaviour, you nod your head at him.

“Then I see you at dinner, Your Grace.” And you shut the door. Standing against the door, exasperated, you let out a deep exhale before you see how the maids are looking at you.

“Does the Duke always act like this?” You ask, quite curious as to what they would say. They looked amongst themselves, not sure if they should say it when one of them shook their head.

“It’s the first time actually, My Lady.” She said and you nod your head.

“It’s quite weird.” You mutter and the maids nod their heads as well.

“The Duke doesn’t like to stare, but he does always start a conversation with us to not make the current circumstances awkward.” A maid tells you and the other agreed with her.

“So he does have the ability to talk and not just stare.” You let out a breathy sound.

“The Duke has been the most gracious to all of us, My Lady. And he’s also never brought a lady here, not even chaperoned, which is kind of a wonder in itself.” And they all agreed in unison once more.

At the last bit of information, questions swirl in your head. Then no wonder, he’s never been seen by society much at all. Those who do catch him, are very few. Then he stayed in Xianzhou for far longer than he intended. Then one wonders why he did just that.

—

Putting on your necklace as a finishing touch, you realize you’re a few minutes late to dinner. Feeling embarrassed for having taking so long, you left your bedroom and hurriedly went downstairs. A servant lead you to the dining room. And when you arrived, the table was set quite closely and it fit four people just fine.

“Oh here you are!” You hear your best friend chime in and you let out an embarrassed giggle. “So sorry for the tardiness.” You say as a servant helps you onto your chair. You say a quick grateful thank you before looking at the men at the table and greeting them as well.

Jing Yuan greets back, complimenting how your gown suits you just finely while your best friend agreed wholeheartedly. Feeling bashful at their sincere compliments, you cover your mouth smiling then looking up to see Blade looking at you.

Or admiring you if you looked properly. It probably is just what your best friend said. He is enamoured with you because he clearly looks like it right now. Heat spreads around your body and your hands starts feel a bit sweaty.

“You do look beautiful, my lady. I agree with your friends here.” No idea on how to react to that, all you could do was smile at him and say a ‘thank you’ while your heart feels like it’s gonna run out of its place in your ribcage than beat out of it.

The food got placed on the table and in the meanwhile, you made eye contact with your best friend and she gave you a knowing look and mouths a ‘told you so’ while you roll your eyes at her which in turn makes her giggle, catching the attention of her husband.

Dinner went smoothly, the conversations was pleasant. And the topic of how the princess caught her husband in her father’s, the king, clutches was such a heartwarming story. After dinner, all four of you got to the sitting room and hung around for a little until the princess and prince decided to retire for the night.

As soon as they decided to do so, you decided to take the moment to leave as well, feeling nervous in Blade’s presence.

“I shall retire-“ you feel someone lightly hold onto your fingers from behind and your first instinct was to hold his hand back but denied yourself to do so.

“Wait.” His voice was soft from behind you and desperate. You turn to face him and retrieve your hand back from his hold, which he furrow his brows at, like it’s agonising to not hold you.

“Do you perhaps wanna take a walk?” He sounds nervous, which is unlike him. You tilt your head to hide your nervousness and instead look confused. “It’s pretty late, Your Grace.” You say simply and he gives a slight smile, nodding his head.

“Yeah you’re right, but do you want to? Maybe we could—“ he ponders off on what to say next. “—perhaps talk?” He finishes off and you looked him slightly surprised but found yourself accepting his offer to walk.

—

He took you to the back of the garden, which was stunning even in the night. You can’t help but think to come back here in the morning, knowing it’d be double the beauty in daytime.

You managed to catch a bloomed lotus flower at the lake and couldn’t help but point it out to Blade, who was walking behind you all in silence.

“It’s so beautiful.” You say as you crouch down and look at the pretty flower, not bothering to look at Blade. “Indeed it is.” Which in turn made you miss the way he looked at you as he agreed at your statement.

You’re absolutely radiant in the moonlight, your gown looks like diamonds the way it’s sparkling in the dark. As you stand and continue walking ahead, your body looks like it’d fit perfectly in Blade’s arms. The way you gently fiddle with your hands as you walk, makes Blade’s own hands itch to hold them so you could fiddle with his hands than your own. Keep yourself occupied with him.

Under the moonlight, Blade sees you look up at the sky, at the moon with a small serene smile on your face. And that’s when he saw the lone stray of hair that fell out of place from your hairdo. Not wasting a chance, he reached his hand out and carefully placed it behind your ear then twirled it around your hairdo. All the while, he did not miss how your body was still in shock.

“What are you doing?” You ask, nervously but deeply.

“I missed you.” He ignores your question, which infuriates you. You harshly turn your head to look at him with furrowed brows and an annoyed expression.

“What do you think you’re doing, Your Grace?” You ask once again and Blade sighs. “I’m fixing your hair.” He says your name at the end and you clutch your dress with your own hands.

“It didn’t need fixing.” You simply say and walk away.

“Please, stop walking away from me.” He says from behind you, pleading for you to stop. You let out a humourless laugh but continue to walk. “Do give me a reason as to why I should stop walking, Your Grace. Maybe then I shall stop doing so.” You retort back.

But your body harshly gets turned around by how Blade grabbed your arm and pulled you against his body.

“Don’t do this to me.” You push at his chest but it’s to no avail, he’s much stronger than you. Somehow, he was quick enough to place his arms around your body and keep you caged in his arms. Maybe you’d appreciate it months ago, but you don’t do it now. It’s agonizing.

“Please listen to me. You at least owe me that.” He says and you scoff. “I don’t owe you anything whatsoever.” You glare at him, holding back tears. You feel his hands trail up your back to cup your face. As if it’s a pure instinct, your body nuzzles into his touch and you hate how much you love this. How much you love and miss his touch on you.

“I know. You’re right. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Then let go of me.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

“I already did that once and I won’t do it again.”

“What’s so different this time, Your Grace? You sound like you might return my feelings this time.” At your words, he stills. As if in a moment of clarity. You look at him and scoff once more. Taking the moment of his stillness, you push him and walk away.

“Leave me alone. I know that face. That’s the exact same face you did the day at the balcony. I’ve been refused once by you, can’t have it happen once more, can we?” You huff out a laugh, finding it absolutely ridiculous. Refused by the same man, twice? Maybe you should take a dive into the lake, it’s definitely still cold. As you were nearing the mansion, it starts to rain. About to hurry in, Blade grabs you by the arm again.

“Why don’t you just listen to me?” He asks loudly over the pouring harsh rain. His wet hair sticking to his skin and the raindrops streaming down his face.

“Last time I did that, you said you were not interested in me like that!” You yell from over the rain. “I'd lose it if I get rejected by you once again, Your Grace. So no, I won’t listen.”

“Then let me explain, please I beg you.” His grip on your arm was tight, you swear you’d get a bruise by it my morning. “Then explain yourself.” You tell him.

He was gonna speak up, but then he sees you shiver. And he sees how strongly he’s holding onto your arm and he lets go immediately. He instantly takes his suit jacket off and places it around your body.

“I’m fine, Your Grace. The mansion is just a few meters away.” He shakes his head, refusing to heed your words. You sigh out, letting him do what he wants this time. When he properly put the jacket around you, even tied the arms into a knot as if it would fall off anytime.

“Let’s get back inside, you’re shivering.” He says and grabs your hand. You stumbled just a few steps as you walked. Then just a few second later, you were up in the air, facing the back garden and smelling the familiar scent of Blade’s natural scent and in his arms. He’s carrying you. Then you feel him tuck you against his chest as if to shield you from the rain even if you’re already soaked through.

Arriving inside the mansion, you hear the surprised and worried voices of the servants and Blade ordering them to prepare a warm bath for you. All while he strides up the stairs, with you still in his arms. And all you could do was hold onto him as if he was your safety net. At some point you found yourself almost burrowing your head onto his chest, feeling safe and content in his arms, his scent surrounding all your senses.

Then you were put on a chair in your guest bedroom. The servants hurriedly prepared the bath. One gave you a blanket then hurried to help her colleagues prepare the bath. You didn’t realize that Blade was still in the room when he had spoken up.

“You may leave this room, I’ll take care her.” At their dukes surprising orders, all the servants could do was bow their head and dismiss themselves.

Then as you sit on the chair, you’re ignoring him. But he knows just how to make you look at him. So he does that. He kneels in front of you, which does make you turn and look at him confused.

“What are you doing?” You ask but lightly gasp when you feel him grasp your leg gently.

When he slides your soaked dress up your legs, you feel extra conscious of your close proximity. He stops sliding your dress up when he reaches the hem of your stockings. Heavy breaths escapes your mouth and your hands tremble on your lap.

“Hold onto your dress, my love.” He softly says, lightly startling at the name he used for you but you did what he said nonetheless. Dress now bunched up and held in place by you, your stocking covered legs are on full display. This act feels intimate to you and it is for sure intimate. But knowing how he feels about you, you don’t know what to make of this. Should you be happy he’s giving signs that he care for you or should you beat yourself up over the fact this may be an act of kindness, not cause he may return your feelings.

He places your heel clad feet on his knee, unties the string connected to your shoes. He looks at you time to time and sees you breathe heavily, your chest rising up and down with a lovely expression. Your eyes are on him, lips parted in shock and the expression tells him you’re surprised to see him do this. Have him touch you. To see the Duke of Stellaron on his knees, helping you. Though you two are of the same social standing. You’re two unmarried people in a room alone together without a chaperone.

He takes your heel off your foot and you can feel his clothed knee even through your stocking. You clutch onto your dress on your lap as you see him touch your stocking softly. Gentle as if you’re a precious doll. Your heart beats fast but it aches. How can he do this after the rejection. After the arguing.

Your breath hitches when you feel him touch the hem of your stocking and slowly slides it down your bare leg. You grab onto his hand midway, shaking your head.

“Why are you doing this?” You softly ask again. He shakes his head. “If you stay in those soaked clothes a moment more, you will catch a fever. So I’m helping you out.” At his words, you turn speechless.

He manages to slip down the stocking and gently puts it on the armrest of the chair you’re sitting on. Thinking about his words and how they’re bothering you, you feel him touch your bare leg, sliding a finger up and down your skin as if he’s mesmerized. You turn quiet and watch him still. He’s confusing. Extremely so.

To work on the other stocking, he gotta grab your other leg. Blade feels happy doing this. Helping you out. The thought of you catching a fever itches at his skin. He doesn’t like the thought of you feverish and in pain. Then if you do catch a fever, you’d have to stay in this mansion until you get better. That thought doesn’t seem so bad to Blade.

Grabbing your other leg, the feel of your bare skin on his fingertips is entrancing. Feeling how your stocking slide down your pretty bare leg and revealing more of your skin, it makes his thoughts wander further and further. Further to were those legs lead up to. Up to your thighs and if he just spread your legs a little and bunched up your dress on your lap, he’d see the apex of your thighs and he almost felt lightheaded. Your scoff burst his little thought bubble of you. He looks up as he finally slid down the entire stocking of your leg.

“Helping me out, you said.” You say, scoffing once again. “It’s ironic, Your Grace.” To hear you address him like and not by his name, he physically flinched.

“You aren’t helping anything at all. Wasn’t our argument just a few moment ago not helping?” You ask him, astonished.

“You’ve been acting so weird ever since the day you rejected me. Your Grace, it’s not been a week since that day, it’s been months. Surely you have seen how you’ve behaved towards me.”

“You’re speaking as if I’ve acted in an evil manner towards you.” He says almost offended and you let out a humorless laugh.

“You don’t find it evil how you been at my beck and call, doing things a man who courts someone does after rejecting me evil?” At your words, his heart shattered. About to speak up, you beat him to it.

“It hurts.” He sees your eyes glisten up in tears as your voice wavers. “It hurts so much, here.” You place your hand at the spot of your heart. His hands trembles, itching to touch you, to hold you.

“I’ve given you my bare heart just for you to refuse it, then now you’re behaving as if you never rejected me.” Tears fall down your face, Blade hates seeing you cry like that. How many times he’s probably done that, he doesn’t wanna think about it.

“Why did you reject me?” You ask and Blade stands on his knees and holds your face gently. He wipes your tears off with his thumb.

“I have no other reasons than just that I don’t want to be in a relationship. I can’t. I’m scared.” His answer infuriates you, but at least he’s honest. Brutally so. You lightly scoff though there’s tears streaming down your face.

“Then why still make me think you might feel the same after the way you’ve behaved? Why give me mixed signals?”

“Because I realized too late.” His words now confusing you. Realizing too late about what? You see how his eyes flicker all over your face and how his grip on your head feels almost rough. “Realized what?” You ask, confused.

“That I love you. I realized too late that the moment you smiled at me you’ve had my heart ever since. I still loved you the day I rejected you. That’s what I realized too late about.” You’re speechless. Not knowing what else to say, you feel his thumbs rub your cheeks gently, he flashes you a sad smile.

“It was stupid of me to do that. The day you walked away from me after almost losing your hat, that’s when I knew.”

“How?”

“Because at that moment, I didn’t make you happy. Your lovely smile didn’t appear on your pretty face. Your eyes didn’t almost glimmer in joy. The thought of you unhappy, it ate me up from the inside.” His voice is wavering and you feel his hand on your face shake.

“I wanted to run after you that day at the balcony, but I thought it was too late. There was no way to mend what I had caused.” His eyes well up in tears and you look at him stunned.

“I’m so sorry. I hurt you so much, I shouldn’t have said i wasn’t interested in you. Because I am. Every day I imagine a life with you, every day I long to touch you, to hold your body in my arms and cage you in and keep you to myself. Everyday I want to see you smile and hear your pretty laughs. A day without you, it was tormenting me.” A few tears fell down his face and you immediately go to wipe it off.

“If you had just said that to me that day at the balcony, we wouldn’t have to do this.” You tell him and Blade looks at you sadly, truly regretful.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have said those awful words to you.” He shakes his head as he earnestly looks into your eyes, truly apologetic. “I am in love with you, most ardently. A day without you is torture, it’s way worse than the Mara that’s been found lately at Xianzhou.” He bemoaned, which makes a tiny giggle leave your mouth. You see how Blade’s eyes lightens up at the sound, watching your mouth expecting more of that sound to come out.

Him staring so shamelessly at your lips, has you flustered and you were about remove your hands from face when Blade, in a haste, out his own on top of yours. He shakes his head, looking defeated.

“Don’t leave, please?” He pleads and your heart races. “I’m not gonna leave, I just felt nervous at the way you were staring at me like that.” You mumble out and Blade’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Why are you staring at me so much anyway? And you always sigh too.” You lightly pout and Blade flashes you a bashful smile.

“Because you’re bewitching. One look at you, it gets me in a trance.” He explains. “But that don’t explain the sigh.” You try to ignore the fluttery mess of your heart at his honest confession of his staring.

“Because it’s absolutely outstanding that someone as enchanting as you is walking on this earth, with mere mortals.” He says and you giggle. “That sounds ridiculous, Yingxing.” You shake your head at his silly words. As you shook your head, you look down at your lap and see how Blade is situated in between your thighs. The position looks quite…scandalous. Your bare legs don’t help it either.

“I love it when you call me that.” He tells you and you nod your head. “Feels better to hear that than my title.” He adds on and you chuckle.

“Now that I know, I might call you that if you wrong me again.” You tease, saying the words in a lighthearted way but Blade turned serious.

“I will never wrong you again, my love. I stand by that promise.” He is saying it like it’s some knightly honour, which is endearing. “That’s impossible, we’re bound to come to disagreement but we shall talk it out than leave it be.” You tell him. He nods his head in agreement.

“Wronging you is something I stand by not ever doing again.” That was final and his sincerity makes you shy.

“The water is getting cold, the servants stressed to prepare this for me.” You shyly mutter out and Blade nods his head. He leans his head in to nuzzle his nose against yours. As Blade was about to pull away, he sees how he’s seated inbetween your thighs and he gulps on air.

You also saw where his eyes went and you feel how his hands moves down to your thighs. As if dazed, he places his bare palms on your skin and you lightly sigh at the touch. As he runs his hands up and down your thighs, he traces his nose down below your face, when he reaches your neck he breathes in your scent there. “You smell heavenly, my love. I can’t get enough of it.” You hear him groan against your neck as his hands squeeze your thighs and your hands clutch onto his shoulders.

“Yingxing, the water.” You manage to breath out and Blade immediately pulls away. His face is flushed and his hair a mess. You let to go off your hold on his shoulders.

“You’re right, I shall leave you alone as you bathe. Call for me when you’re done, yeah?” He’s so gentle. He’s now softly holding your neck and strokes his noses against your own before pressing a kiss on your forehead. His actions leaving you completely stunned, all you could do was nod and you were alone in the room.

You took your gown off and entered your peach scented bath. Then you remembered Blade’s confession, his touches and the way he caressed your legs. You touch your legs as if remembering his touch then you feel embarrassed before soaking your entire body in the bathtub.

—

Putting on a nightgown after your bath. You pace around the room for a moment. Debating on if you should go sleep and pretend to forget Blade told you to call for him. Then how can you call for him anyhow? You’d have to go to his bedroom personally.

At that thought, you get a sudden realization and your body flushes in warmth. Going to his bedroom at night feels nerve racking but at the thought of being alone with him, makes you feel elated.

You were tiptoeing outside your room, mindful of your surroundings but somehow not catching there was a door ajar, seeing what you’re doing. As you were walking down the hall barefooted, you realized you don’t know where his bedroom is. You sigh to yourself for your stupidity and was about to walk away when you hear footsteps from down the hall.

A tall figure emerges and your eyes lightens in joy at seeing Blade.

“Hi.” You softly whisper and he smiles at you like you hold the world. “Hi.” He greets you back and softly takes your hand in his.

“Remembered there’s no way for you to call for me than going to my bedroom, so I came to check up on you.” He whispers to you and you muffle your giggle with your unoccupied hand, nodding in agreement.

“Come, let’s go back.” He says, dragging you to the direction your bedroom is. You stand put, not following along. As Blade sees what you’re doing, he turns confused but when he sees you shake your head slightly when placing your other hand over your intertwined ones, he understood.

—

He gently leads you into his bedroom and you feel all sorts of emotions at once. You see him light the candle by his desk then turns around to face you. The room being lit by only the candle with you two in it, your heart definitely skipped out of its place.

Blade looking at you, it’s like his crimson eyes felt darker in the candlelit room and you decided to do anything else than look at the man.

“So…” you start off as you walk towards his bookshelves in the room, pretending to examine the titles. “You read books!” You chime awkwardly and Blade looks at you amused.

“I do, I’ve told you that before, my love.” He softly tells you as he starts to approach you. Your widens and you quickly speak up.

“No, stop right there!” You exclaim then quickly cover your mouth for being too loud. Blade stops walking instantly, confused as to why you told him to stay there.

“I—why?” He tilts his head and your breath feels almost like it’s staggering.

“It’s the proximity.” You tell him.

“Proximity?”

“Yes.” You nod your head.

“Or is it me?” Blade sees your lips part in surprise before you slightly nod your head. His heart flutters at the thought of you being flustered in his closeness. He takes a step forward and he sees you back slowly against the bookshelf, he smiles at the sight.

When he got close to you, finally, he softly tugs on your hands before clasping them together with his own. He brings them to his lips, kisses the top of your fingers gently, all while keeping an eye contact with you. Your breath staggers and you wet your lower lip.

“I was honest in everything I said today.” He mumbles against your hand and your eyes slightly widens. He smiles again. “I know it’s hard to believe me after I rejected you so cruelly that day.” You shake your head.

“I do believe you.” You softly mutter, loving the way he kisses your fingertips. “I’m happy that you do.” He says before he unclasps your hands to cup your face. He backs you against the bookshelf, making you tilt your head to look at him. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to kiss you since our last dance.” He mumbles and you sigh as you rub your nose against his. “Do you still want to?” You shyly ask and he chuckles.

“Oh my love, such an obvious question you’re asking me.” He nuzzles his nose against your cheek before you feel his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses on your face except the place you want them to press down against.

“Then kiss me.” You whisper before you felt a pair of soft lips upon yours. You sigh into the kiss as you trail your hands up over his firm chest to hold him by his neck.

His lips moves so softly against yours but his grip on your face is tight and desperate. When you feel his tongue in your mouth, you gasp into the kiss at the same time as you squeeze his neck. He takes the moment to nibble on your lower lip as his hands moves down your back to place themselves them on your waist, his fingertips close to your backside.

Then he takes your mouth in another kiss, teeth clashing against each other in a desperate and hungry attempt to kiss deeper and deeper. He continues to kiss you as if he hasn’t had enough until you had to pull away, breathless. Blade is panting himself but can’t stop himself from reaching your mouth again and press kisses on the corner of your mouth down to your jaw to your pulse point, all of that making your grip on his neck tighten and soft moans leaving your lips.

“So this is how it feels to kiss you?” You hear him breathe out, chest heaving up and down. You let out a small chuckle. Blade noses the spot between your neck and shoulder, before trailing chaste kisses down your throat to your collarbone, breathing in your scent. All while grabbing onto your thighs, as if in reflex, you pull your thighs up and he automatically lifts you and pins you against the bookshelves. His hands are now below the material of your nightgown and you can’t stop the constant sighs and soft moans that escapes your mouth with the way he’s pressing kisses on your skin.

As you wrap your thighs around his lithe waist, you feel Blade’s hands close to the inner parts of your thighs and you still in surprise. Your hands reflexively gently push his chest and he stops his kisses on your skin.

Blade sees your widened eyes and he feels where his hands wandered to and his own eyes widens as well.

“I wasn’t supposed to go that far.” He says almost if he got caught for committing a very heinous crime. You lightly shake your head, your hands clutch onto his shirt on his chest.

“No, it’s okay. I was just…shocked. That’s all.” You reassure him softly and he nods.

“I won’t do anything you won’t like.” You hear Blade say and you smile at him, genuinely. Your heart feels full of love for him. When Blade sees you smile at him so lovingly, he can’t help but kiss you on the mouth for a few moments more.

“You haven’t done anything I’ve disliked.” You mutter against his mouth during the kiss. You feel Blade smile against your lips, then you feel his hands that are still on your thighs, squeeze you as if he liked the words you just said.

You feel how your back isn’t pressed against the bookshelf anymore, but rather pressing against nothing, so you immediately wrap your arms around his neck. Then you realize Blade is walking with you in his arms, towards the bed. Then you lightly flop down on the mattress from when Blade gently released you.

When Blade sees your hair splattered across his pillows, your nightgown sliding up your thighs with your legs lightly crossed. And with the way you look up at him with such pretty eyes, he loves it. He loves the sight of you on his bed, at his mercy and now in between his arms as he caged you in on the bed.

Then he kisses you all over your face in a haste, making giggles and bunch of soft ‘stop, it tickles’ go past your pretty mouth. He loves this too. Being alone with you, having you all to himself as he gets to press his mouth against anywhere on your soft body. And when he feels you hold his shoulders and your thighs wrapped around him, he feels at ease and fulfilled. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

“I love you.” You hear him say. His voice so soft and gentle, so in love and awe to be able to say these three words to you. You heart just cannot stop beating faster and faster, body heating up even more at his words. You softly nod your head, then you feel him lean down to nuzzle his nose against yours, muttering the three words again and again.

“I love you.” You tell him back then he kisses you on the mouth, saying ‘i love you’ with the way his lips moves against yours leisurely and in unbridled joy.

—

“It’s okay, you can leave it here.” You hear muffled voices from beneath the blanket and you feel the sun beams on your face. You snuggle up closer to the blanket, sighing in content at the familiar scent of Blade on the blanket. You smile sleepily against the material before you feel the bed dip beside you. You turn around and see Blade look down at you with such a soft way in his eyes, full of love.

If it was possible for your body to flush in warmth all the time around this man, your body would be constantly in that state.

“Good morning, my dove.” He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. You pout and shake your head, puckering your lips and you hear Blade giggle. Then you feel his mouth upon yours and you smile into the kiss. Your arms go around his neck and you push his entire upper body on yourself, feeling his entire weight on your body but you love it even though he’s heavy.

“Good morning, Yingxing.” Blade can't get enough of the way his name leaves your lips. The way you say it, he loves it. The day he won’t hear his name past your mouth, he’s a dead man.

“Let’s get up, it’s morning and there’s breakfast for you.” You nod your head at his words and you feel his hands on your hips before he moves you up against the headboard of the bed and makes you sit up straight. You giggle at the way he manhandled you and he presses a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask as he hands you a sandwich. He nods his head as he softly runs his hand down your hair.

“I missed out on a lot of the times you weren’t asleep in my arms.” He grins as you giggle, feeling him put a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you stared at me as I slept.” You look suspiciously at him and he puts his hands up as if he got caught.

“You can’t blame me, you look absolutely beautiful as you sleep.” He tells you. You pout. “I drool when I sleep.” Blade chuckles. “Then I be there to wipe it off for you if you do.”

Your heart flutters at his words and you shake your head embarrassedly. “You and your silly words.” You tell him as you take the last piece of sandwich in your mouth. Blade rubs your mouth, wiping off crumbs then eats the little crumb himself.

“Only you will hear those silly words, my love.” He tells you and you playfully groan. “Oh no, that’s torture.” You cover your face as you grin. You hear Blade laugh as he then climbs up on the bed to hover over you on the bed.

“Oh, then this won’t be torture then?” He asks. And you uncover your face, wondering what he means. “What won’t be?” You ask him back.

Then he kisses you.

Oh this is definitely not torture.

—

Your arm were looped in with your best friends as you two take a stroll in the back garden of the Stellaron Mansion.

“So, what’d I tell you?” You hear your best friend chime in amusedly and you lightly roll your eyes. “That he was enamoured with me.” You repeat her words and she nods, proud of herself.

“And he most certainly is, he can’t stop looking at you ever since you two got out from his bedroom.” She emphasised ‘his’ which makes your eyes get big and you look at her surprised.

“You knew?!” You almost shriek and she giggles. “I saw you two at night, tiptoeing and whispering around then he dragged you to his bedroom.” The way she described it is funny to you, so you can’t help the laugh that escapes your mouth.

“He didn’t drag me. I was the one who asked him to take me there.” You tell her and your best friend oh’s entertained and you giggle at her antics.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” She lightly pushes your shoulder and you shrug your shoulders playfully. “Well, I did learn from the best, didn’t I?” You whisper to her and the princess laughs. If one has to know, your best friend the princess, sneaked down to her husband, former bodyguard of hers, bedroom after a ball.

“Alright, let’s go back, I can feel Bladie’s stare on us for millions away.” Your best friend says and you giggle. Because he is indeed looking your way. When you see him, you wave and he waved back. He is so endearing.

—

“I will court you properly and ask for your hand once we get back to Xianzhou. How does that sound, my dove?” You hear Blade ask from below the steps to the carriage.

“I love it.” You smile at him as he takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles softly. He wished he kissed you on the mouth but with so many watching, he decided to spare it for another time.

As he lets go off your hand, you take your fan and unravel it.

“Come closer.” You whisper to him, Blade looks confused then he feels you grab by his collar before covering the view of your faces to everyone with the fan. Then he feels your soft lips on top of his and he smiles. He feels most wholeheartedly happy. You giggle against his mouth when he leans back in to kiss you more when you lean away.

“Okay, no more.” You tell him and he lightly pouts, looking saddened and you pat your hand against his cheek.

“You get to kiss me as much as you want once I’m your wife.” At the mention of you being his wife, his eyes lightens up. He takes a step closer to the carriage.

“And I’m your husband.” He whispers before pressing one last kiss on your mouth, making you lightly gasp and him grin happily.

To think you’d make such a stoic man get so soft around you, is astonishing but you love it.

—

phew! thanks for reading it this far, hopefully you liked it ><

please leave a like and reblog if you did, that would be most appreciated! <3

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ao3commentoftheday · 3 months

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I’m thinking about perfectionism again, specifically with respect to how it can skew your opinion of success and failure.

There’s this concept that comes up a lot when you read about issues like perfectionism: all-or-nothing thinking. It’s a trap that’s easy to fall into.

If you’re a fic writer falling into this trap, you might feel like you’re an absolute failure if your fic isn’t a 100% accurate depiction of the scene you see in your head with flawless grammar and zero typos. That is a, quite literally, impossible standard to meet and as a result of never meeting it, you probably feel one or more of the following:

lack of motivation

certainty that there’s no point in even trying

self-hatred or some other form of intense dissatisfaction with yourself and/or your skills

This is a completely logical way to feel in that mindset, by the way. Your standard for success is so high that you’re constantly a failure. If your standard for success is impossible to meet, then there is no point in trying. If there’s no point in trying, how could you possibly feel motivated?

In order to move away from those feelings, you need to move away from that all-or-nothing, black & white mindset.

One way to do this is by figuring out a new standard for success that actually can be achieved. For example, give yourself permission to have occasional typos in your stories. Gaiman’s Law states that an author will always find a typo the first time they open their published book. If even Neil himself has resigned himself to this fate, then hopefully you can too. If you managed to write your story then that’s a success and finding a typo after you’re done doesn’t turn that success into a failure.

Another thing that’s helped me is to think of every failure or mistake or dissatisfying result as a learning opportunity. If I’m not able to do something now, that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to do it at some point in the future. I just need to keep trying. Practice makes better. Practice also helps you figure out the things that are easy for you and the bits that are hard and where you might need some help - either from a fellow fan or from another kind of resource.

I think part of the reason why people can get so anxious about their fanworks is because we care so much about them. We love the characters. We love the world. We want to do them justice in our writing, and we want other fans to love our creations too.

It’s important to remember that all of us love imperfect things all the time. It’s not perfection that makes a thing lovable. It’s the heart that’s put into it.

There’s a lot of fear behind perfectionism. Fear of being caught doing something wrong. Fear of being shamed for a mistake. Fear that imperfection makes us unworthy or unlovable. Fear that a single flaw will ruin an entire work. Fear of failure.

If you want to be able to move through that fear, you need to be able to reduce it somehow. The most effective way that I’ve found is to stop writing with the goal of posting something online. Write for the sake of writing, without the pressure of showing it to someone else. That might help you to get out a first draft (or second or third) without that worry about being judged and found wanting.

If you’re not ready for positive self-talk or reframing the internal narrative (I get it. Been there.) then allowing yourself to be less than perfect in a place where no one else can see you might be a good first step.

And just because I think it’s important that you hear it from time to time: you are a wonderful, creative, amazing human being - mistakes included.

#thinky thoughts #perfectionism #this turned into a ramble sorry #long post

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stardoomed-if · 27 days

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Stardoomed is an 18+ drama/romance interactive fiction novel set in Los Angeles. Focus on relationships and avoid falling into bad habits; the road to fame is more filled with pitfalls than you ever imagined.

When destiny leads you, a newcomer to the world of K-pop, to become the last member selected for the most anticipated new group, Next Gen, the journey to fame seems like a dream come true. But behind the bright lights and smiles on stage, dark secrets and overwhelming challenges lurk.

Each member of Next Gen faces their own demons as they struggle to stay afloat in a world that loves and hates them in equal measure, a world to which you now belong. You'll be drawn into a whirlwind of drama, romance, and friendship as you navigate the complexities of life as a new idol.

With the fate of the group and your own career at stake, you'll have to make tough decisions, face your deepest fears, and discover what it truly means to achieve greatness in a world where success can be as fleeting as a star.

Are you ready to live the dream?

CW: explicit language, sexual themes, discrimination (homophobia, transphobia, racism), substance abuse, non explicit violence.

✦ Play as a male, female, straight or queer, question your gender, and challenge the world for something you didn't choose.

✦ Full customization: personality, appearance, style, nationality, and just like in real life, be judged by how you look.

✦ Choose your role in the group, are you a dancer or a rapper? perhaps a talented singer? or maybe... nothing.

✦ Become part of one of the most promising K-pop groups of the decade.

✦ Face the true face of the industry.

✦ Succeed as an idol or pursue your true dream, be a painter, an actor, a CEO—the choice is yours.

✦ Fight against your projective mother to regain control of your life or give in to her whims for a bit of her affection.

✦ Embark on a forbidden romance with one of your three group mates or the company staff, either way, they'll fire you when they find out.

✦ Meaningful decisions. Here, everything matters, even your weight, unfortunately.

✦ Choose between your mental health or stardom.

✦ THE MAIN CHARACTER

The fourth and final member of Next Gen seems to be more about luck than talent. Insecure, repressed, and with questionable mental health, they will need to learn to put themselves first and take control of their own life, even if it means destroying the almost nonexistent relationship with their mother.

✦ NIKO / NIKA ROMANOV [ro; m/f] see more

One of the choreographers at HYPE. Contrasting with their rough appearance and tattoos, they are a kind and warm person who, although their smile never fades, carries the weight of their past with them.

"Leave it all behind."

✦ HANNY / HANNAH SONG [ro; m/f] see more

Talented beauty blogger and one of the main makeup artists at HYPE. Cheerful, shy, introverted, and full of colors, they are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. It's a pity they don't think the same.

"There's always a reason to be grateful."

✦ DEVON DILLARD [ro; non-binary] see more

A music producer at HYPE, with a distinctive style and incomparable talent, they have broken barriers and more than a dozen hearts. A free soul is what they are, and all they want is to have fun. Although you are increasingly convinced that everything is a facade.

"I'm too sober for this shit."

✦ JIHOON / JIWOO CHO [ro; mcs gender] see more

The charming vocalist and center of Next Gen. Charismatic and with an incredible sense of fashion, they have risen and made a mark in the industry. However, fame has its price, and forgetting who they are was what they had to pay.

"I dress to impress me."

✦ NIRA [ro; mcs gender] see more

Perfectionist is an understatement. Leader of Next Gen and main dancer, Nira is as demanding as they are talented. Some call them a prodigy, and yet it has never been enough. Perfection doesn't exist; that's something they soon have to face.

"My only competition is my potential."

✦ DANIEL / DANIELLE HAN [ro; mcs gender] see more

As outgoing and affectionate as a Husky, Dani is the main rapper of Next Gen. A streamer and gamer turned idol, not a bad combination… right? Well, it seems that things aren't so fun with a contract involved.

"My life is full of exciting possibilities."

DEMO TBA | COG FORUM TBA |

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #stardoomed if #current wip #choice of games #choicescript #if game #if wip #dashingdon #intro post #if #hosted games #interactive game #cog demo

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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : AUGUST 12TH :*+ﾟ

in which: reo sees his birthday marked down on your calender, and it fills him with the courage to win you back. or, he's hiding from the paparazzi... in your apartment, for whatever reason.

warnings: 2k wc, gn!reader, exes to lovers but they're very much in love, they kiss (eww), minor angst and minor embarrassment for reader but it's very cute, very much fluff and happy endings, professional soccer player reo, characters aged to be around 21+

a/n: I LOVE REO. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!

August 12th used to be one of the most important dates on your calender. Now it is one that brings forth bittersweet thoughts and memories whenever you think too hard on it, reminiscing a love that you had to let go long ago, despite how badly you wanted to keep him.

Mikage Reo’s name used to be stamped loud and proud beneath the date, with a heart that you hastily scribbled on due to the awkward angle of the page. His name is still on there, just without the heart, and merely in capitalised letters of your handwriting.

You don’t know why you need to record it down because you remember it regardless, the set of numbers etched in the crevices of your mind. In fact, when August first hit and you were planning the month ahead, the act of recording down Reo’s birthday was a second-hand instinct, and when you did so without realising, a little pool of embarrassment and hurt developed in your chest. You didn’t even have the guts to cross it out either, despite it being almost seven months since you split.

Not a day has passed without you thinking about him, clearly.

But it was nothing to be embarrassed about because no one will ever think too much about it, especially not Reo, because he has no reason to ever step foot in your apartment ever again. If he ever saw it, you might just wither away.

So why on earth was he here now, sitting on one of your kitchen stools? The one that he used to always sit on when he came to see you when you were still dating with the reasoning that it ‘gave him a better view of you whilst you were scurrying around’.

Now you are ever aware of his gaze on you, entranced whilst fixing him a mere glass of water.

Sliding it over to him on the marble countertop, he takes it with a grateful smile. “Thank you for allowing me to hide here, and I'm sorry about bringing you into all of this.”

“No problem, you got lucky that i have nothing better to do today,” you sigh, trying to tune out the clamours of the paparazzi that were residing outside of your apartment complex. Wandering over to the balcony window, you see that the swarm hasn’t decreased from when you last checked.

Your poor, clueless neighbours. None of them deserved to be dragged into this. You wonder when it can all settle down.

“Reo?” You murmur. He glances over at you immediately, attentive purple eyes bright and wide in their curiosity. “Why did you come here out of all places?”

“You’re…” he falters. “You’re the first person I thought of, and I just so happened to be nearby.”

“Nearby? There’s nothing to do around my neighbourhood. What could you possibly have to do here?”

He looks away, shamefully staring down at his glass of water. “Errands. Stuff.”

“Okay,” you trail off, not wanting to prod further. “So how are you thinking of getting out of this situation?”

“Does your apartment have another way out?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Well unless you want me to jump from your window, then my only way out is to wait,” he says with a shrug and you pinch the bridge of your nose. The clamours of the crowd below can be heard even on your second-level home, and no matter how badly you wanted to return to your work, a certain ex of yours is only another reason for your headache.

Since the breakup, you never thought Reo would ever be here again, however, fate seems to have pulled peculiar strings to bring him back to you- on his birthday too.

You won’t admit that this all feels a little set up. Perhaps it was the universe mocking you for not being able to stop loving him, despite it being you who forcibly let him go so he could fulfil his soccer ambitions in England.

The last time you saw him, he was crying at your doorstep, reluctant to go and to let you go. It is a sight that will always haunt you, especially when you then shut the door in his face and ultimately, ending your relationship.

Would you let him go again if you had the chance? No. Reo won’t ever know that, though.

You doubt he wants you back.

“Maybe you needed a better disguise if you wanted to escape the paparazzi,” you mutter.

Reo fiddles with his sunglasses. “Don’t scorn a man who just wanted to go out. I can’t even do anything normally nowadays anymore, not even in Japan.”

“Well, yeah, you’re kind of a big shot, Mr-Signed-With-Manshine-City,” you huff. "It's like high school and your fangirls all over again."

“You remember my team?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It's all anyone talks about, especially after the World Cup.”

“And you listened?”

“Of course I did,” you confess, no louder than a whisper. “I’m happy for you, Reo. You're really amazing.”

Something about your sentimental statement makes the purple-haired frown, looking away as an obligatory ‘thank you’ slips from his lips.

There’s a quip resting on the tip of your tongue about it being his birthday, but it slides back down your throat with the ease of paper, cutting you in the process.

“Can I request something from you?” You question.

“Anything," the athlete looks over at you with hopeful eyes.

“Since you’re using my house to hide in, can I have your Netflix password so we can watch a movie or something?” You murmur, “something’s telling me that you’ll be here for a while.”

He laughs, bright and exuberant and boyish that it makes your yearning expand tenfold. “Sure, as long as I get to pick what we watch.”

Your heartstrings soften a little, “fine. I have popcorn somewhere so let me get that out.”

It only takes one movie for the clamour outside to disappear. You’re sure that your neighbours called the police at some point too given then flash of red and blue that illuminated onto your walls, but there was little conflict, and eventually, the quiet returned. You should be grateful for it, really, because your headache can calm and you can get back to doing your work, but it also means that this is the end of yours and Reo's paths. He’ll leave your apartment, and then Japan, and then your life will return to the seven month-long limbo that it was without him, with possibly no due date this time.

He stays around until the end of the movie, however, and when it’s over, he stands with a huff, hands on his knees to help push him up. If you weren't too focused on your dread, you'd have noticed the subtle reluctance clinging to him.

“I ‘ought to be going now, I’ve been in your hair long enough,” sighs the soccer player. “Thank you for allowing me over.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” you mutter. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise. you lo-” Reo’s eyes widen before he shuts his mouth, visibly shaking the sentence away as you’re filled with an invasive sense of curiosity. You want to pry his words out of his mouth, but you don’t think that’s appropriate for your current relationship. “I’ll see you sometime.”

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

He nods. During the time of your conversation, the two of you had made it to your kitchen and to your horror, Reo stops right before your calender. He glances at it and has to do a double-take, making sure that his eyes hadn’t failed him.

How will you recover from this one?

Reo turns to you, eyes and smile soft and so so warm. “You still have my birthday marked down.”

“Oh. You’re right!” You laugh awkwardly. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you. I’m honoured you remember.”

“Oh my goodness, please shut up,” you hide your face with one hand and Reo laughs harder.

“Do you remember how old I’m turning as well?”

“We’re the same age! Of course I'd remember-”

“-do you have a present for me? You know I love presents.”

“Go buy your own damn presents, you multimillionaire.”

He laughs harder and you almost want to chase him out of your house. “But I like it when they’re from other people!”

“I don’t have a gift for you, Reo, now can you please shut up?”

“If you don’t have a present then can I ask you for one thing?”

“What is it?”

“A date. Tomorrow, at your favourite place downtown.”

The light, cheery environment dims and you find your breath getting lodged in your throat. “Reo… I- we, we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He asks, “do you still love me?”

“I have your stupid birthday on my calender and no one else’s, not even mine, so yes I do still love you.”

He grabs your hands and you feel weak in the knees, clasping onto the warmth you had grown so familiar with. “Then another chance, please, that’s all I ask for.”

“I let you go for your sake, you shouldn’t have someone like me dragging you back whilst you’re in England. Didn't you see how successful you were without me?” You mutter, thinking back to the night that you let him go, recalling all the pain you felt.

And how you might relive it again tonight.

“Dragging me back?” he parrots, voice slightly strained. “I thought about you the entire time I was abroad, every training session, every time I scored a goal, I thought about doing it all for you. It might have hurt me to not have you there with me, but it killed me to know that I didn’t have you at all.”

Reo rests his forehead against yours and you close your eyes, basking in the intimacy that you never thought you could ever experience again with him. “And it killed me even more to know that you wouldn’t be waiting there for me when I came home. You know who was there instead? Stupid Zantetsu, and a few high school friends, but not you.”

“I love Zantetsu though, we get coffee together all the time,” you comment quietly. “He told me that he was going to pick you up.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t even think of going with him.”

“Exes don’t go to the airport to pick each other up.”

“So be my lover again,” pleads Reo. “Be mine again, be here for me every time I return to Japan.”

“Is it what you want?"

“A thousand times yes.”

You sigh through your nose, memorising the feeling of his forehead against yours one last time before parting from him. “Then pick me up tomorrow, at half past six, and we can go downtown.”

His smile could rival that of a thousand suns, and just seeing it is enough to cure your heart.

“Okay,” he nods, a dreamy sort of look settling in the purple hues of Reo’s gaze. “Okay! I'll be here, without paparazzi this time, and no one will disrupt our date, I'll make sure of it.”

“One more thing before you leave. Stay here!” You command before scurrying through your house and into the study to retrieve a pen. Uncapping it, you then scribble a little heart on the calender, right next to Mikage Reo’s name.

You don’t miss the look of pure elation on his face.

“Call me. My number hasn’t changed.”

“Okay, I will, I will. Watch out for it.”

“Then I look forward to it.”

“Now I really don’t want to leave,” he whines, gently pressing you against the wall with his hands holding onto your shoulders. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to ask to stay the night, would it?”

“No, but, I think we’re beyond your awkward gentleman-liness.”

“Then, I have permission to do this, right?”

He presses his mouth to yours, hot and needy, you wonder if he’s trying to swallow you whole so you really can’t ever leave again.

“Happy Birthday, Reo,” you murmur against him.

#reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo fluff #reo x reader fluff #blue lock

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bratbby333 · 1 month

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your beauty never scared me ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ suguru geto

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ synopsis: after having your heart broken, your best friend helps you pick up the pieces ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ content + warnings: nsfw + mdni !! fem!reader x suguru, reader was in a toxic relationship + cheated on, fwb!suguru, angst, comfort, smut, unprotected sex ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ word count: 5k (+ a smau!! woo!!) ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ author notes: pink indicates reader's pov, orange is suguru's...inspired by Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green <3 also this was not beta read so pls excuse any typos xx i hope yall enjoy !!

Heartache has its own special way of ruining someone…

...stripping away every ounce of self-respect you work so hard to accumulate. That’s the trouble with letting people in. The outcome is almost always undecided, left in the hands of fate or whatever the hell you believe in. Perhaps it's a moment of weakness, letting a stranger entangle themselves with every fiber of your being, see every inch of your skin, explore the darker parts of your mind– even the things you hide from yourself. Putting trust in the wrong things, the wrong people. Never knowing someone’s true intentions until you discover them in bed, in your bed, with another. When something breaks inside of you, something cynical puts the pieces back together. You are a shell of who you once were. Blame it on soul-crushing character development.

It’s hard to watch the woman you love destroy herself…

...for the sake of holding on to someone who has only ill-intent in their heart. Perhaps it’s best to remove yourself. It’s agonizing, knowing you have the ability to save her from all this. You could relieve her of the heartache, free her from the suffering. Bring her nothing but joy. She has changed, evolved, and is nearly unrecognizable now. You watch as he withers her down into nothing. That man broke her, leaving her to pick up the pieces. And the woman you see now isn’t the same one you knew all those years ago.

The cold air of December flurries around outside as your chest erupts in warmth at the sight of her name illuminating your lock screen. She asks to see you, and you’d be a fool to decline. As she’s sat before you, you take in every part of her that you missed. But she’s different now. Dull eyes, sloping shoulders, her cheekbones are sunken in as her clothes hang from her figure like it's two sizes too big. But it isn’t, you remember the day she bought that t-shirt. The soul that normally inhabits her body has been replaced with something…unrecognizable. You know it’s her, but your mind tells you otherwise. The way her voice lilts from her lips, how chillingly different she sounds while delivering the news, it’s heartbreaking.

She informs you she won’t be around much, mentioning that it will take time for her to heal from this. You pretend to be supportive of the distance she wants to place between herself and her loved ones, even though it absolutely crushes you.

There’s something peaceful about loneliness…

…only relying on yourself for company. It can be draining of course. With the few friends you do have, you make the most of it. It’s a serene feeling, private even. People perceive you however they please, but only a few trusted individuals know your ins and outs. It's refreshing.

God forbid you have to cater to someone else, especially when dating. It's hard enough having to take care of yourself. You make sure your friends know they’re loved and appreciated, of course, but the idea of inviting another person into your life; someone who demands your time and attention in order for it to work out? No thank you. It’s backfired for you many times before, you aren’t willing to go through it again. Your friends have watched you heal from heartbreak after heartbreak, each one more damning than the last. No one blames you for your cynicism, it’s understandable.

Plus, the emotional upkeep of a romantic relationship is exhausting. And the idea of meeting someone, falling for them, and it not working out in the end? Torturous. Why put yourself through all that?

“You just haven’t found the right one!”

“They’ll come around when you least expect it!”

“You gotta put yourself back out there!”

Blah, blah, blah. Not interested. There’s no room for hopeless romance in this ill-fated world. You’re not dealing with that pain anymore. Not if you can help it.

The trouble with love is that it’s cruel…

…discriminatory, even. Picking and choosing who gets to rejoice in its bliss and simultaneously alienating the unfortunate souls who suffer in its unyielding grip. You attempt to find peace in the silence of her absence, telling yourself that she’s okay, but knowing all too well that her precious heart is still shackled to someone so undeserving. You hold on to the irregular check-in’s you get from her. You hope she’s healing, and you prepare yourself for the outcome; that when she finally returns, she will not be the same person she was.

Betrayal has a pesky habit of sticking around…

…a lingering feeling that still eats away at you. The night you caught him in his infidelity, something deep within you broke. It wasn’t your heart, no, that would be too simple. It was your psyche, the core of your being. The day he left, a part of you left with him. The chemistry of your brain changed, your atomic makeup shifting toward nihilism.

So you move through life differently now. Every positive outlook you once had now cast to the wayside, replaced with unyielding suspicion in attempts to keep your heart guarded from the outside world. Hope has finally run out, the idea that there’s good in everyone proven to be a goddamn lie. You shove your desire for love into a padded safe and hide it away on a forgotten shelf in your mind. Hell, you’d burn that obnoxious feeling if you could. Run it through a meat grinder, chuck it into a volcano, nuke it. Doesn’t matter. Anything to stop it from tearing you apart. It’s not like it’s done you any good. Besides, who would want someone as damaged as you?

Part of you feels guilty…

…for sitting idly by, knowing your dear friend was hurting so deeply. But there wasn’t much you could do. You grant her space, knowing she wasn’t given that same courtesy for four years of her life. You pray she returns soon, aware that she doesn’t do well on her own. Her own mind is acting like a prison, holding her hostage, forcing her to relive her pain day in and day out. But, god damn it, you can’t take it anymore. You have been without her for so long. So you reach out, demanding she spend time with you. Self-isolation can only get you so far. It had been months since you’d seen her last. And to your surprise, she agrees.

A spring evening, 65 degrees, the setting sun…

…a gentle breeze that laps at your warm skin as you sit cross-legged on a checkered blanket. The beautiful flowers of May decorate the ground in colorful clusters. The cicadas sing while the bees are busy buzzing around. It’s a strange feeling; coping with the fact that your life has reached rock-bottom, a total stand-still as you work to heal yourself, yet life continues to move, to grow, to thrive. It’s inspiring in a way. You are accompanied by Suguru. He managed to get you out of the house after weeks of rotting away inside, anchored down by the gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak.

Laughter echoes through the park as the two of you revel in the serenity. Life feels…good. Whole. Worth living. It’s been a while since it has felt this way. It shouldn't feel strange, but it does. Happiness has become a foreign concept to you.

Sitting before you is the woman you love…

…the color in her cheeks has returned, the fullness of her face present once more. After suffering through the many months of thunder and unrelenting downpour in her mind, she has bloomed once more. Finally. You couldn’t pull your attention away from her even if you wanted to, your body and mind drawn to her in the most spiritual way. Even though she’s deep in thought, working to take in her surroundings, her beauty is still very much evident. She isn’t even aware of the power she holds– utterly entrancing. You would do anything to live in this moment forever. You’d do anything for her.

But in this moment…

…with a forgotten feeling of fulfillment creeping its way into your chest as the soft rays of the sun dance across your skin and the sounds of nature swirl through your ears, you realize something. Something so beautiful, yet so fucking terrifying. You love him. Suguru. Maybe it was just your heartache talking, connecting dots that had no business associating.

You brush it off, hide it away, and chalk it up to just being in a vulnerable moment. Your heart had been torn from your body only a few months prior. Anger still rips through your chest when you think about it. Four years wasted on someone you had placed on the highest pedestal, far higher than you placed your family, your friends…yourself. You were blindsided. In an instant, everything you had come to love, the home you felt safe in, the person you thought you knew…ripped away. Like it was nothing at all.

Suguru has done what he could to mend the wounds for you, knowing good and well that if you are left to your own devices you would spiral past the point of return. And as renewing as this spring evening is, you know you will never be the same again.

But you can’t help but fixate on the way he makes you feel. And as hard as you try to push those feelings away, they continue to bubble up. What happens when it finally reaches its boiling point?

You’re only human. You have wants, needs, and desires…

…so who do you turn to for that release? Suguru, of course. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Some would say it’s an evil thing to do; to use someone for pleasure, your own personal gain. A part of you understands that, too. Sure, it may have started out that way, but it’s shifted. And that scares the shit out of you, how you find yourself searching for his validation, the sadness you feel when he leaves in the morning after a night full of fun. So why not tell yourself that you’re just doing what you need to do, rather than what you want to do. Ignoring the fact that deep down you really fucking love it.

It’s not like you’re taking advantage of him and the bond you share…not really, anyway. The two of you are very close, having known each other for ten years. Side by side, maneuvering through a decade of emotional ups and downs; personal dilemmas, weird family dynamics, terrible relationships, fluctuating hormones and unexpected cast changes within your friend group. But the two of you have always stayed consistent, the main characters. Your personalities mesh well, constantly riffing off one another. Never ending laughter and smiles. He's seen you at your absolute worst and vice versa. The true definition of unconditional love. So why not get a little more from him? After all this time, it feels warranted, well-deserved, even. Ignoring what you feel for him, it just makes sense that this is how it should go down. Plus, if it was such a bad idea, why would he agree?

You would accept her…

…in any way she chooses to present herself to you. After years of watching her hurt, you finally have your friend back, and there isn’t anything you wouldn't do to make her happy. Especially with guilt that you still feel, knowing there was nothing you could have done that would’ve saved her from her suffering. So when she suggests the idea of being friends with benefits, you’d be insane to deny her that. Is it a bad idea? Perhaps. You refuse her offer? She slips away, seeking refuge in the arms of another, someone who could hurt her…Never again.

You crave her so deeply that this arrangement seems perfect. Even though you dread the morning after, not wanting to leave her side…jumping on every opportunity to see her, showering her in praise every time you’re nestled deep within her warmth– the way her eyes light up at your word makes you melt. Is it possible she feels the same way? The more you think about it, the less crazy the idea seems. Would she leave you in the dust if you told her the truth? You don’t want to risk losing her. Not if you can help it. But you can’t confess your underlying intentions. Even though a deep part of you hopes for more, it doesn’t even matter at this point. Hide it. You get to be with her in a way that you never have before, and that’s enough for you…right?

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It all transpired after one drunken night playing a confessional card game with your friend group. You were shit-faced and horny, and he wasn’t any better off. You’re honestly surprised his dick still worked that night, but god did it work. You didn’t expect it to go any further after that, assuming it was a one-off occasion. The two of you never really addressed what happened, either, didn’t take the time to have a real conversation about it. Just a quick “hey, do you wanna…” followed by an indifferent “yeah, why not?”, and that was that. Which is probably a good thing, because any more talking would have most likely resulted in your true feelings coming to the surface. But it happened, and is still happening, so who are you to complain? It’s perfect.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

Your friends and random on-lookers alike say you’re compatible, and yeah, they might be right, but fuck that. Why risk the friendship you cherish so deeply for a title? That's idiotic. It's borderline insanity. The minute you put a label on something it all comes crashing down. So, why ruin a good thing?

Don’t overthink it. It’s nothing serious, and it never will be. You refuse to open yourself up to somebody else, someone new. No more getting hurt. You’ve let Suguru into your life in a more meaningful way than you have for anyone else. And that’s far enough.

Does he know every little thing about you? Sure.

Does he care for your well-being? Yeah.

Is he attentive, thoughtful, and supportive? Of course…it is Suguru after all.

But so what? That's what friends are for.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You and Suguru see each other frequently, at least three times a week, whether it’s just a normal hangout or…a hangout. You just get what you need and go; a good laugh, dinner and a movie, casual drinks, or a heaven-sent dick appointment. You both seem content, enjoying one another’s company and…bodies…and minds and souls.

Fuck.

It’s hard to ignore your totally natural, human need for deeper intimacy. But you try to, and damn do you try hard. It would probably be best for you to stop hooking up with Suguru and just go back to how things were.

You can’t go through this. Not again. You’ve already shifted the perfectly normal dynamic you once had into something deeper. Something…real. There’s no turning back now. So you continue to hide behind your ego, fighting off every demon known to man in hopes that this will all just go away.

You’ve been somewhat successful in suppressing your feelings, molding them into something more manageable. You are best friends, with the addition of benefits. Simple. Nothing more, nothing less. You pretend to be ignorant of Suguru's awe-inspiring beauty. How his energy is absolutely addicting, the way his lingering touch burns your skin so beautifully. He makes you feel seen for everything you are and appreciates you for everything you’re not. That sentiment alone propels you through the unexplored cosmos, crossing the line between reality and nirvana as starlight dances across your skin.

Not to mention, when you two are actually fucking? It's like two parts of the same soul finally meeting after centuries of arduous searching. You don’t know where your body stops and his begins, entangled in the most profound way.

God. You sound insane. This is no way to view a friend…your best friend, at that. Get it together.

What would you even call this? Touch starved? No, he touches you plenty…and in all the right places, too. Is it desperation? Your insatiable need for love? Karmic punishment for all your failed relationships? The corny trope where you end up falling for your best friend? As much as you want to fight against the feelings you have for him, it’s too late.

Whatever. Just play it off. You refuse to let your walls down. And you’d hate to give Suguru the satisfaction of being the one who commandeered heavy machinery and sent a wrecking ball toward your emotional fortress.

If you don’t acknowledge your feelings they’ll just cease to exist, right? Yeah, that’s how it works. And it’s a super healthy coping mechanism, too.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

All this deep pondering and emotional soul searching has got you worked up. You decide to see if Suguru wants to come over. Not because you miss him, or anything. It’ll be nothing more than a casual hook up. Dick only, no feelings.

You catch yourself giggling at his messages. Gross. You brush it off with a shake of your head, a violent wave of self awareness washing over you.

I'm not going through this again. I refuse.

You read the messages over and over. Do you seem desperate? Do your texts carry the perfect amount of indifference? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s just Suguru, anyway. He's stuck around this long, it would take a lot to scare him off, now.

The plan’s in motion, and you’re going to have a good time tonight. You feel your heart rate spike at the thought of seeing him. That's a totally normal reaction for someone who has no feelings involved, right? Just friends…right?

Suguru chuckles as he reads your response. Excitement floods through his body in anticipation. Is it finally time to confess? His own eagerness catches him off-guard. He can’t. It’s too soon. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Keep it together.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It’s been so long since the feeling of joy has drifted between these barren walls. You take a swig of your drink, exhaling happily through your nose as the sweet juice dances with the sting of the liquor, warming your chest as you swallow. Leaning back on the couch with one leg kicked up on the coffee table, you absentmindedly swirl your glass as you gaze at Suguru.

“I’m really happy to see that you’re doin’ better,” he muses, taking a sip before setting his cup down. You offer him a small nod paired with a gentle smile, looking back at the drink nestled between your fingers; the ice that’s creating condensation on the outside, the way the sun seeps between the half-open curtains in your living room, the cooing of birds just beyond your window panes. Quite frankly, you’re trying your hardest to focus on anything but him. Ignoring the thrum of your heart every time you look into his eyes, pretending the smooth cadence of his voice doesn’t make your body tremble.

Say you do confess? What then? Is that really something you want, anyway? Or is it just nice to lust after someone? No, it’s not that. You really do love him. You haven’t even considered the possibility of him reciprocating these feelings, and odds are if he does, you’ll just run for the hills, not willing to open your heart up again. Your last relationship destroyed you. There’s no way you’ll allow someone to fill that void. Not with the possibility that it’ll all be a farce.

After a moment of silence, you finally speak up. “Me, too. And it’s all thanks to you, Sugu.” You finally meet his gaze, and it’s as if his eyes are attempting to pierce through you with how intently he’s looking at you. His expression quirks as if to ask what you mean. You decide to test the waters a bit. Fuck it.

“You…you’ve made me feel…whole again,” your words come out a bit choppy and drawn out, still battling with your decision to come clean. Your eyes dart around his face before looking away once more. You fiddle with your fingers, unsure of if you want to elaborate. Even if you stop here, it’s okay. That’s a totally normal thing to say to a friend who helped you in your time of need.

Your head snaps toward him at the sound of your name. More is said, but you focus on the way he addresses you. He says it so softly, so gently, like the very syllables of your title grace his tongue as they sway from in between his vocal cords. For four years, your name was used against you, weaponized with anger and hatred. But his words are relayed to you with nothing but love behind them.

Your ears are ringing as you stare at him blankly. You shake your head in hopes to clear the thoughts that are clouding it. “Wait…wha? What did you just say? The last part?”

“I said, it’s because I love you,” he smiles as he watches your face flush. Time slows as your heart rate speeds up. You brows furrow a bit, trying to piece together what the hell is going on. A million thoughts spin through your head as you stare at him. “You…love…me? Like, in a ‘best friends’ kinda way, right?” You’re shocked as he shakes his head. “No. I love you, and I have for a while. In a more than friends kinda way,” he laughs a bit before leaning forward, reaching for your hand. “You love me, too. Don’t you?”

“I-” your words get caught in your throat as his fingers rub against the back of your hand. As calm and collected as Suguru seems on the outside, he is spiraling on the inside. He isn’t sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, but he decides to roll with it. His heart thrums in his chest as he anxiously awaits your response. He has reached his tipping point, wanting nothing more than to finally be able to call you his.

You look down, staring at the place where the two of you meet, the feeling of electricity coursing through your body. A chill runs down your spine before you look back at him. “I-I do. I love you.”

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out across the bed. Your arms are wrapped tight around his neck as he gently thrusts into you with slow, deep ruts of his hips. His head is tucked into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing across your sensitive skin.

He leans back, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “You are so beautiful.” His eyes run up and down your body, taking in every dip and curve of your figure, before fixating on where the two of you meet. His lips part as he watches himself disappear inside of you, a deep moan breaking through his chest at the sight of your sweet juices coating his length. He rubs intricate circles into your clit, loving the way you sound as your body writhes under his touch.

Tears begin to pool behind your eyes as you gaze up at him, entranced by the way he manages to stimulate every sense in your body. This is what love truly feels like, bestowed upon you by a man who wants nothing more than to fulfill every facet of your life.

He presses his forehead against yours as he continues to pump into you, his movements influenced by nothing more than pure adoration.

The sun bounces off your features, illuminating your face in such an ethereal way. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the way the light makes your eyes glow. You are angelic in every sense of the word. Someone too pure for this realm, unfathomably delicate; sent to this world to be worshiped and protected.

“I love you. So much,” he groans. Every ounce of devotion he has for you is being pumped into your body with every plunge. It’s overwhelming for him. He's nearly bursting at the seams as he makes love to you, moving his hips so tantalizingly slow, but wanting to thrust into you with fervor, to pound the message into you that you are deserving of all love in the world, and that he will be the one to give it to you. But he takes his time, wanting nothing more than to savor you.

Small whimpers break through your throat. “I…ahh!– I love you, S-Suguru,” you moan, whining as his head brushes into your sweet spot, making your back arch off the bed as your chest presses into his. The pleasure raking through you is immeasurable, every neuron in your brain firing off at once. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every single part of him.

He cups the sides of your cheeks, brushing away your tears before placing two soft kisses over each eye. “Why’re you cryin’, my love?” he coos, concern evident on his face as he rubs his thumbs against your face. His hips pause as his eyes dart between yours.

“Just…’m just so happy,” you whisper, scrunching your nose up with a small sniffle before placing a kiss on his lips. He smiles deeply before returning to his original pace.

“You deserve it...just wanna make you feel good, baby,” his hips press him into the deepest parts of you, rubbing against your sweet, gushing walls, but his pace remains deliberate. “You deserve all the pleasure in the world,” his teeth grit ever so slightly as he feels you clench down on him. “F-fuck, baby… fuck. You are just... incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to keep brushing against your g spot.

Even though you’ve had each other many times before, no other instance compares to the way you feel right now. Your body brimming with love, fulfillment…with him. His touch makes you feel reborn, like no one has ever hurt you before. His hands glide across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, his unyielding passion evident in the way he clings to you, and you to him.

“Sugu…” you gasp as he bottoms out once more. Short pants leave your lips as you feel the tightness in your stomach intensify. “P-please, keep goin’...I’m…gonna cum,” you mewl. His hands reach underneath your body, palming each asscheek as he lifts your lower half off the bed. The new angle makes your eyes roll as stars begin to dance around your head. “Me too…y’feel so fuckin’ good.” The fiction of his pelvis against your clit shoots ripples of pleasure through you. Your nails drag down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail. This feels otherworldly. His pace picks up a bit, pushing you to unravel, your body succumbing to bliss. The warmth that engulfs his lengths makes him reach his peak right after you, his hips stuttering as he works you both through your orgasms.

He props himself up on his forearms, making a conscious effort to not collapse on you and crush you with his body weight, though you would most definitely welcome it. He watches as your chest rises and falls, every soft pant that leaves your lips like music to his yearning ears. He can’t bring himself to pull out, loving the way your walls are still spasming around him. You stare into his eyes for a moment, running your fingers down his spine. A gentle moment of silence settles between to two of you. No words are spoken, but they don't need to be.

He begins to get up, but your legs lock around his waist immediately, resheathing him inside of you. “Baby–”, he begins to object, but your arms wrap around his shoulders once more, pulling him down as you kiss the spot below his ear, “Jus’ a few more minutes. Love having you like this.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smiles into the crook of your neck. “You keep this up and we might just have to go again.”

And you do. For hours and hours, attempting to make up for all the years wasted. Your two souls engaging in the most mesmerizing dance. He is determined to replace all the heartache you feel with pleasure. And he does. You feel nothing but him. And he can’t focus on anything other than you. Rolling around together until the golden hue of the setting sun shifts into a light pink as it rises above the horizon. But it feels like no time has passed at all.

Suguru draws soft circles into your skin, holding you tight against his sweat-glistened chest. Your body trembles from the copious amount of pleasure coursing through you. A gentle peck is placed on the top of your head before he looks toward the ceiling. A sense of contentment washes over him, dancing with the soft pulse of his many orgasms still reverberating through his body. After years of waiting, you are finally his, and he is determined to grant you your well-deserved peace.

Dawning a robe, you sit on your balcony, listening to the birds sing you their habitual 'good morning'. The door slides open behind you, and Suguru takes a seat, presenting you with a cup of tea. A quiet thank you leaves your lips as the two of you take in the scenery before you.

“We should probably get some sleep now, huh?” You ask, turning to him as you take a sip, smiling at the fact that he knows exactly how you take your tea. But, of course he does. It’s Suguru.

He grins, “No…I don’t want to leave this moment behind just yet.” You blush, reaching your hand out to grasp his.

“Me neither.”

In his eyes, you are precious, the most important person in his life. The deep-rooted fear of not being worthy of love is disproven in the form of Suguru’s undying loyalty to you. He has waited years to be with you, and he would have waited years more. And as the two of you sit together, with your fingers intertwined and heartbeats in sync, you know there is nowhere else you want to be…no one else you want to be with. An unfamiliar feeling of safety creeps into your chest. You’re in good hands now.

Maybe opening yourself back up to love wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

author notes: this fic is incredibly self-serving...but i really needed this. i just want a pretty boy named suguru to save me from the heartache i feel rn ugh

my reqs are closed at the moment, but thirsts and chats are always welcome !!

alsoooo !! i just wanted to send out a big big thank you for 700 followers...im literally in shock i cannot believe it. im spinning around my room rn just thinking abt it. yall are amazing n i appreciate every single one of you 🫶🏼

tag list: @anxious-chick @call-memissbrightside @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @sadmonke

likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated !!

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